Music of Destiny
by Darke Angel
Summary: [HPDM] Harry and Draco are suffering from reality and withdraw from those that love them. As the world readies for war, Harry finds out startling secrets about his past, prophecies involving him and Draco. Especially Draco.
1. The Attack that Started It All

Disclaimer: me no own Harry Potter or anything else the goddess J.K. Rowling has created. Though I wish I own Draco Malfoy.  
  
The action picks up after the first ten or so paragraphs, so please be patient!  
  
Chapter One  
  
"The sun is shining, the sky is a nice blue, the birds are singing and the world rejoices, for it's a Hogsmeade day!" cheered Ronald Weasley, his freckled face stretched wide with a grin, clear blue eyes gleaming with anticipation, and bright red hair waving happily in the breeze, reflecting its owner's cheerful mood. His slightly faded Hogwarts robes were rumpled and carelessly thrown on, and a bit too short for his long, gangly frame. He walked with a bounce in his step, often throwing impatient glances at his two companions who walked at a more leisurely pace, forcing him to keep stopping to wait for them to catch up.  
  
"Ron, slow down! The place isn't going to run away, you know." protested the only female in the trio, her lilting voice admonishing. Hermione Granger was a slim teenager with once-bushy, now softly curling brown hair, gentle puppy-dog brown eyes that shone with intelligence, and a sweet, caring smile. The way she carried herself, walking in a stately manner with her back comfortably straight, together with her neatly arranged school robes, belayed her mature, responsible personality  
  
"He just wants to get to Zonko's and see if Fred and George managed to sell their inventions like they threatened to," smiled the last person in their group in his rich, light tenor voice. Harry Potter grinned back at Ron, brilliant green eyes glittering with amusement, white teeth flashing in his tanned face. His jet black hair flopped every which way, giving him an adorably irresistible come-and-get-me look, what with his lean, Quidditch-toned body. With his recent growth spurt, he was one of the most popular guys in Hogwarts, sharing the number one spot on the "Boys to die for" list done by the courtesy of the Hogwarts girls.  
  
"Well, yeah, that's true," admitted Ron, grinning. "They wouldn't tell me if they really did sell anything, though. They just told me to 'haul my lazy ass off to Zonko's and look'."  
  
"Very good advice, I might add," Hermione cut in. "It's nice to see you boys do some exercise that doesn't involve Quidditch."  
  
"How can you say that?" demanded Ron in mock horror. "Quidditch is the best exercise anyone can have!"  
  
Laughing, the trio continued their walk down the wide path, feeling the breeze ruffle their hair and the sun shining benevolently down on them. Sounds of bustling town life could be heard from the near distance, but other than the crunch of their footsteps and the rustling of the animals, there was no other sound to spoil the quiet, peaceful scene.  
  
"It's so nice, so calm..." Hermione observed placidly. "That's the nice thing about the wizarding world, no noisy clanking machines to pollute the air."  
  
"Yeah, that's the good bit," Harry said darkly. "You just forgot to mention the evil wizard who wants to take over the world." He looked away, lost in thought. "It's too peaceful. Like the calm before the storm. Voldemort's been lying low ever since the end of fourth year, and it's now in the middle of fifth year. He's going to do something soon, I know it."  
  
"Harry, don't say the name," hissed Ron, exchanging nervous looks with Hermione.  
  
"Fear of a name only increases fear of the thing itself," intoned Harry. "I'm not trying to be pessimistic, Ron, just practical. Fudge refuses to admit Voldemort's return, all the more reason why we should be alert, since no one else is." He fell back into the moody silence that Ron and Hermione had become so familiar with now, ever since Cedric's death.  
  
Hermione cast a concerned glance at the famous Boy-Who-Lived, trudging next to her, eyes downcast, head slightly bowed. Ever since fifth year started, Hermione noticed that Harry had been withdrawn, quieter, with an air of weariness around him, unlike the awkward adolescent she had come to love like the brother she never had. Without looking, she knew that his green eyes were veiled with sadness and grief, and deeper down inside, with guilt. Sometimes, he seemed so lost, so hopeless, and it hurt Hermione, and she knew it hurt Ron, too, that they couldn't help him, no matter how they tried to reach out to him time and again.  
  
All they could do was show in as many ways as they could how much they loved him, how much they cared, and hope he would open up to them. They pleaded with him to share his troubles with them, to trust them, for they would accept him and still support him regardless. It seemed that they were succeeding at the times when he would laugh and joke with them, but then he would revert back to his moody self, and it was at these times when Hermione and Ron felt most helpless of all. Harry would look at them with heavy sorrow in his eyes, like he was trying to protect them by distancing himself, trying to keep them safe from the danger that seemed to find him anywhere he went. He seemed to think that pushing himself away from everyone was the best way to show his concern for them, and nothing anyone said changed his opinion. But Ron and Hermione never gave up trying, and never would until they had got the old Harry back.  
  
"Look, there's Hogsmeade!" exclaimed Ron in an effort to break the oppressive silence. Hermione shook herself from her thoughts and looked up. The quaint wizarding settlement was in front of them, filled with all sorts of people hurrying or strolling from place to place. Harry looked up as well, and flinched a little, seeing so many unknown people. He was used to the students at Hogwarts, who he was used to and who basically respected his wishes and left him alone, but here were a whole lot of strangers who would whisper and point when they saw his scar. A lasting reminder of how he had failed Cedric.  
  
"Harry, come on," urged Hermione, a comforting hand on his arm. Harry smiled weakly at her, then at Ron, who had settled himself at Harry's other side. The warm smiles his friends gave him encouraged Harry, and gave him the determination to see this day through, the first day he had ventured outside of Hogwarts or the Muggle world into the Wizarding world.  
  
Together, flanked by his faithful friends Hermione and Ron, Harry walked into Hogsmeade. This isn't as bad as I thought it would be, Harry admitted to himself, waving at Dean and Seamus chatting animatedly with some Ravenclaws. The boys waved back. No buildings are collapsing, nobody staring at me -  
  
Then the fountain in the center of the newly-erected Hogsmeade Square exploded.  
  
There was a stunned silence... then the screaming began, as black hooded figures appeared where the fountain had once been, blasting everything within range, the water creating a dramatic background for their sudden appearance. Chaos erupted as people poured out of buildings, screaming, pushing, shoving, anything to get out of the way, anything to escape. They were all out of their minds with terror, they weren't expecting this, You-Know-Who was supposed to be dead, he was supposed to be dead! Terrified witches and wizards had only one thing on their minds, escape, and to survive. The uglier side of human nature showed itself as they trampled over anything and everything and anybody, not caring as long as they were able to stay alive.  
  
Harry stood stunned, watching with a shocked detachment as the Death Eaters began a systematic destruction of buildings, not caring if people were inside... and then, their circle expanded, as they marched outwards, and green jets of light filled the air...  
  
They were using the Avada curse.  
  
"No." whispered Harry, "No, no, no..."  
  
"NO!!!"  
  
The Boy-Who-Lived charged forward, wand drawn and held ready in front of him, his friends a step behind. He cast spell after spell, not even thinking about it as he dueled with the Death Eaters who had just noticed him and were concentrating on capturing - or killing - the hated enemy of their Lord. Harry sent spells straight back, felling more than a few. Following Harry's example, witches and wizards started to attack the Death Eaters, gathering into clumps for safety in numbers, and the black hooded wizards were forced to break up to deal with them.  
  
But then... there was a blue glow and somehow, somehow none of the spells cast could hit the Death Eaters, instead, they rebounded and hit the innocent witches and wizards instead, and no one dared to cast another spell at them, for fear of hitting the wrong people... and there was an Avada curse headed straight for Harry, and he couldn't dodge it, he couldn't, he was frozen to the spot, seeing the green light lance straight towards him, hearing his mother's screams, seeing her body collapse to the ground, surrounded by a cackling green light -  
  
And he was tumbling on the ground, being roughly yanked along, his friends lost in the crowd. The sounds suddenly lessened, and he was dropped unceremoniously on the dusty ground. Blinking to clear his head, he looked around. He was in the remains of a room, covered in dust from the destroyed building, and hidden from the battle going on outside.  
  
And there was a black shadowy figure looming over him.  
  
Harry yelled and thrust himself away from the mysterious person, scrabbling for his wand, before realizing that that piece of wood the person was twirling was the exact thing he was looking for. *I'll be damned if I'm going to go down lying in the dirt*, Harry thought furiously, and pushed himself up to a standing position, swaying dangerously before righting himself. As an afterthought, he put up his fists. A little silly, considering that he could be knocked out with a simple Stupefy spell, but what the hell. He would go down fighting.  
  
"Fight me like a man, Voldemort's dog," he spat, fury boiling in him, the memories from Cedric's death still fresh in his mind.  
  
"I'd like to, but sadly, I can't, even though I'm more of a man than you are, because one, I'm not working for Voldemort, two, I'm certainly not a dog, and three, there are much more important things to do right now than engage in some pointless fight with the heroic Boy-Who-Lived, like, oh, I don't know, saving the world?" said the person, his smooth tenor voice sarcastic. He then tossed the wand back to Harry and stepped out into a better-lighted part of the room.  
  
"Malfoy?!" Harry accused disbelievingly, taking a good look at the person who just saved his life.  
  
"Ten points to the boy for finally using his brain," drawled Malfoy. His silvery hair caught even the faint sunlight trickling in, shimmering like silky threads of woven silver, and his silvery-gray eyes were cold as usual. His finely sculptured, perfect face was emotionless, with only a faint sneer on his mouth; his tall frame radiated arrogant strength. The pose he stuck, folding his arms into his black Hogwarts robes, gave him an air of superiority and impatience, like he had much better things to do than stand there and watch Harry make a fool of himself.  
  
"Malfoy?!"  
  
"Yes, I think we have long established that fact already, Potter."  
  
"MALFOY?!"  
  
"Shh! Shut up and don't make so much noise or we'll be found in an instant! For the hero of the wizarding world, Potter, you sure are dumb."  
  
Harry decided to ignore the prat and strained to hear what was going on outside. He had more important things to do than beat the Slytherin to a pulp.  
  
"Harry Potter! Come out and surrender or we'll kill your friends and everybody here one by one, every minute, like this! Avada Kedavra!" shouted an emotionless voice from outside the room, sounding muffled through the wall. Harry's eyes widened. "No! They have my friends! And they're killing them!" he said disbelievingly.  
  
"Yes, so come up with a plan to free them," sighed Malfoy with annoyance. "No, forget it, what am I saying? You can't think. If we have to rely on you to get us out alive, I'd rather jump off a cliff first."  
  
"Then why don't you? I don't need your help, thanks," snapped Harry.  
  
"Oh, but might I remind you that I wasn't the one who was standing straight in the path of an Avada Kedavra like a brainless statue? Honestly, Potter! A simple ducking action would have sufficed. But no, you had to act like an idiot and make me ruin my robes! Look, dust all over me, and it's all your pathetic doing."  
  
Harry opened his mouth to insult Malfoy straight back, but then closed it again. Malfoy was right, what had he been doing, frozen to the spot like that? And Harry *was* indebted to him, after all. Maybe Malfoy wasn't as bad as he seemed, if he actually did something as noble as saving someone. Harry had always thought him the Death Eater type, what with his father and all, killing and torturing mercilessly.  
  
Malfoy looked faintly surprised that Harry had not replied, but then shrugged it off. He beckoned to the green-eyed boy, pulling him down to a crouch in front of a half-collapse wall of rubble. "Look," he hissed to Harry, shoving his face into the wall.  
  
Harry looked. He could see all that was happening outside, through the cracks in the wall, and what he saw made him go cold. The death eaters had the Hogwarts students Stupefied, kept in a glowing blue barrier - the one that repelled all magic. There were bodies all over the square, unmoving, and Harry prayed fervently that they were just unconscious, not dead. The death eaters themselves were inside the barrier, facing outwards in a circle, so that not a single movement would escape their notice.  
  
Malfoy pulled Harry back. "See, no one can cast a spell past the barrier, but the barrier itself is physically non-existent. So what you have to do is to get inside that barrier and cast a spell to get rid of them. I'll distract them for you, but you have to be quick," he whispered, voice barely audible even though he was centimeters away from Harry.  
  
Harry nodded, the spells he was going to use already in his mind. The Dilato spell was a very complicated one, which, when used with another spell, expanded that spell's influence so that it affected all within the caster's range, which could range from 5 metres to 10 metres. Harry had practiced this spell, together with other advanced-level curses and defense/attack spells, in secret, and was currently studying more of them. Now he planned to use the Dilato spell together with Stupefy to knock out all the death eaters within his range, which was 10 metres, the furthest the Dilato spell could go.  
  
Harry watched as Malfoy melded with the shadows and slipped away. Precious second ticked past as Harry waited, cold sweat beading on his forehead and palms. His friends' lives were in danger out there, because of him, and if they died - Harry didn't even want to think about that.  
  
He watched with horror as a Death Eater levitated a third-year Hufflepuff and another one aim his wand at the student. "Harry Potter! We will kill this boy now, if you don't come out!" one of them yelled.  
  
*Come on, Malfoy, where are you?!* Harry thought frantically, scanning the grounds for any sign of movement. Then, *Wait, what am I doing? I'm trusting a Slytherin! The idol of the Slytherins at that! Should I just make a run for it and pray for the best - *  
  
He never got to finish his sentence, for the next moment, he had to duck to avoid his head being sliced off by a piece of flying metal. Harry immediately straightened and stared out at the Square. It appeared that yet another building had exploded, but not from the Death Eaters' doing; the aforementioned Death Eaters were in fact pointing their wands in that direction, yelling out curses - and most importantly, *facing away from Harry*.  
  
Harry dashed out from the wall he was crouching behind, and with lightning speed was inside the barrier before he knew it. As if in slow motion, he saw the Death Eaters turn around, even as he yelled in a clear commanding tone, "Dilato Stupefy!" The effect was immediate - all the Death Eaters were knocked unconscious. Those who were outside Harry's range whipped around to aim curses at Harry, but were promptly knocked out with a few well-aimed spells by Draco. The barrier dissolved into the air and disappeared.  
  
Harry looked around him and blinked a few times. It was *over*? Just like that? It seemed too... simple, somehow. Too easy. Surely Voldemort wouldn't let his precious few Death Eaters fall into the hands of the enemy in a matter of minutes. But it looked like it. He had won. But he kept his wand out - just in case.  
  
"Mention I helped you, Potter, and I will chop you into itty bitty ingredients for my potions," intoned a voice behind him. Harry whirled around and stared at Malfoy. His sleek black robes, which were never out of place and always perfectly creased, were torn and dusty and the edges were tattered in rags. The slicked back silvery hair was caked with dust, too, making him look much older, and the gel that usually held it in place was gone, leaving his hair to ripple softly in the tiny breeze. He had kept his wand in his hand, like Harry had; showing that he also felt the danger was not over yet.  
  
"If you don't want people knowing you helped me then why did you?" challenged Harry, too tired to be subtle.  
  
Something in Malfoy's eyes flickered, before the wall of impenetrable silvery-gray glass was back up in his eyes. "I just felt like it, other than that, it's None. Of. Your. Business. It was not done for you, it was not done out of kindness, it wasn't a change of heart; it was a rash impulse that I'm starting to regret. So don't think I've changed and become a soft cuddly teddy bear that you can befriend. I'm as likely to kill you now as I was before. Understand, Potter?  
  
Harry remained silent, disagreement in his eyes.  
  
"Potter. I don't want to argue with you and waste time. I'm dead tired from all that running and I need to get out of here before anyone sees me in this horrible state. If you don't swear you will shut that mouth of yours, I will Obliviate you."  
  
"I didn't think the great Malfoy would use the word teddy," remarked Harry at last.  
  
Malfoy's eyes narrowed dangerously. "Potter," he hissed, "You have five seconds. Five. Four. Three. Two. One - "  
  
"I swear I won't tell anyone about you helping me," Harry said coolly, fingers discreetly crossed behind his back. It wasn't very nice to lie, really, but this was *Malfoy*. He had to tell Ron and Hermione, it was just too big news. Other than that, he was determined to keep this secret. It wasn't any day that an enemy saved you, and it had to mean something. He was determined to find out what it was, and to do so he had to make Malfoy trust him - or at least, have a semblance of trust in him.  
  
Malfoy sneered at Harry before turning on his heel in a dramatic swirl of black robe (sort of like Snape, Harry noted amusedly), his brisk stride taking him out of sight in an instance. Harry stared blankly into air for a few seconds. Was he forgetting something?  
  
"SHIT!" he suddenly yelled. He had forgotten about his friends! What kind of person was he, to think about his enemy and forget his friends? Hurriedly he dashed towards the huddled figures surrounded by a ring of fallen death eaters. But, halfway there, he crashed into someone that materialized out of thin air.  
  
"Ow! Dammit, watch where you Apparate! I'm trying to save lives here!" groused Harry as he pushed himself from the ground - only to stare open-mouthed at the Headmaster of Hogwarts, who was trying to hide a smile behind his bushy white beard.  
  
"Pro - Professor - Professor Dumbledore!" Harry squeaked, going red. "I - I was just - "  
  
"Did you hear anything?" the Professor asked innocently.  
  
"Er - no, sir. But I do apologise for what we both didn't hear."  
  
"That's all right then. I apologise too, for not being here sooner. Unfortunately, we were held up by another attack by Death Eaters on a location near Hogwarts, and we did not find out about this simultaneous attack until just now, when we hurried here as quickly as possible," Dumbledore informed Harry gravely. "I am sorry for the delay."  
  
Harry looked around him. The Hogwarts teachers, it seemed, had also Apparated along with Dumbledore, and were now in the process of Ennervating all the unconscious victims. Madame Pomfrey was there, busy checking patients with her medical supplies in a big white box next to her; Professor Sprout was putting plant-made medicine on some wounds; Professor Snape was doing the same with his potions, and many other teachers were helping in their own way. "It's okay, Professor Dumbledore. You came just in time."  
  
People were coming back to the Square, looking for loved ones and friends, and to some people's relief, they found them safe and unharmed. But others... Harry could see people cradling unmoving bodies in their arms, sobbing, and he grieved, for he should have saved these people, but they died because of him, and he didn't do anything. He was suffocating under the immense guilt, seeing all those cold, frozen faces around him, dying while the Boy-Who-Lived had lived once again, just like Cedric, dying for him, for no good reason, a boy, a friend with such a bright future in front of him, who excelled in everything, while Harry was just a boy with a stupid scar...  
  
"Harry." Dumbledore's firm voice made him look up. "You're hyperventilating, Harry. Calm down, you did very well. In a war, there are always casualties; we cannot save every single person." Seeing that Harry still wasn't convinced, the Headmaster sighed. "Think about what I said, Harry. It's not your fault that people died. Don't blame yourself. Now, you had better go and check on your friends. I will have a talk with you later to find out what happened."  
  
Harry nodded, and dashed off towards Ron and Hermione who had just stood up, looking disoriented, and he hugged them tightly, relief in every line of his body. Ron and Hermione were equally emotional, and the three remained in a group hug for a few moments, before reluctantly letting go. Hermione wiped a few tears from her eyes. "Harry, I was so worried! The curse was aimed right at you, and then someone came flying out of nowhere and *tackled* you and you disappeared somewhere and I thought you were *dead*! Oh, Harry, I'm so glad you're okay!"  
  
Ron was not as articulate, but he managed to put in as much emotion into his one sentence as Hermione did in her tearful speech. He punched Harry weakly in the arm and grinned, "Good job you did there, mate."  
  
Harry smiled back at the two of them, fighting tears. "I'm so glad you both are fine," he told them, voice shaking, a world of relief and gratefulness in his words.  
  
Hermione opened her mouth to speak again, when there was a loud POP and shocked yells filled the air. Harry whipped around, fear returning in full force, a bad feeling in his gut. And sure enough...  
  
"What? Where did all the Death Eaters go?" he gasped, scanning the 'battlefield'. There was not a single black-robed body amongst all the figures. Adult wizards, with their wands out at the ready, looked bewildered and baffled. Harry chanced a glance at Dumbledore and stared. Livid fury was radiating from the Headmaster, just like it had at the end of fourth year when he had blasted the door to Moody's office into fragments, except that this time, Dumbledore was keeping his rage suppressed, though that only served to make him look even more forbidding.  
  
Harry averted his gaze and instead looked around him, leaving the adults, who were already gathering around Dumbledore, to argue and debate. It was no use thinking about it, since Harry wasn't very good at magical theories, anyway. Looking around, he saw a majority of people hurt, and other people hard at work levitating the larger pieces of rubble to search for any trapped victims. Mediwitches and Mediwizards were Apparating in all over the place, checking wounds and prone bodies. Harry's heart clenched when he saw one of them shake her head after feeling for an unmoving witch's heartbeat, and the wizard holding the certified dead body cradled it all the tighter and cried, his body shaking.  
  
Harry turned away, he himself shaking a little. People were bound to talk after this, asking why hadn't the Boy-Who-Lived done more, why he was still alive when their loved ones were dead. And he'd be scorned, and hated, and there would be no one to grieve his death like the wizard had grieved for his lover, who was dead because Harry hadn't done anything to save her, because Harry had allowed Wormtail to escape and live to help Voldemort live again...  
  
"Herm? Herm!" Ron's panicked voice brought him back to reality. Harry caught Hermione just in time, when she slumped, unconscious. He staggered under the sudden weight, then gently lowered her to the ground, kneeling beside her. Checking her pulse, he breathed a sigh of relief. "She's okay, just over-stretched her nerves, I guess," he told Ron, who was hovering anxiously over them both. "Shock, you know?"  
  
"Yeah," smiled Ron with relief. "That's great. Glad it's nothing more."  
  
"Yeah, it's great..." Harry trailed off, looking past Ron, then stood abruptly. Pushing past a bewildered Ron, he strode toward the only prone Hogwarts figure that was not waking up amongst the other groaning students. Dropping down next to the figure, he rolled the body over, and his blood turned cold.  
  
Dean Thomas's face, frozen in a look of surprise, stared unseeingly up at Harry.  
  
"Dean?" Harry whispered shakily, disbelievingly. He pointed his wand at Dean and choked out, "Ennervate!" But Dean didn't move. Harry stared, tears blinding him, at his dorm-mate. Quiet but so reliable, gentle and helpful, yet fun and energetic at times, Dean couldn't be dead. He couldn't! Harry wouldn't allow it. Not Dean, too. Not after Cedric.  
  
A detached part of Harry noted realized he was shaking Dean harshly, yelling at him to wake up; that his friends were surrounding him, some crying into shoulders, others just gaping in shock; that the teachers were pushing their way into the circle and stopping dead at the sight that greeted them; that his tears were splashing onto Dean's face, his cold, dead face. Harry felt his emotions ball themselves up, locking themselves away into a deep corner of his heart, as his body shuddered with sobs and anguish.  
  
Finally he quieted. He stayed unmoving for a long while, taking in the reality before him, before gently closing Dean's staring eyes and placing his hands on his chest. Standing abruptly, the people around him shrinking away from him, he turned to face Dumbledore, whose face was solemn and grave, his eyes filled with worry for Harry. Before Dumbledore could say anything about how it wasn't Harry's fault, Harry spoke, his voice low and forceful.  
  
"I don't want to hear anything about how deaths are inevitable in war. One of my good friends is dead and I need some time to think, some time to be alone, as does everyone else. So don't follow me where I'm going and don't disturb me if you find me." He shouldered his way out of the crowd, murmuring "Accio Firebolt" as he went. Once outside the press of people, none of whom made to stop him, he waited for his broomstick. In no time at all, the Firebolt sped into his hands and he gracefully got on before soaring into the sky and out of sight of the people on the ground.  
  
Harry tilted his head to the sky, closing his eyes, just feeling the wind buffet him full-force. He urged his broomstick faster, feeling it respond eagerly under his hands. "I'm sorry for that outburst," Harry whispered to his friends somewhere down on the earth below him. "I'll go back to being the Boy-Who-Lived... after I've made sure that I haven't died." But something inside him told Harry that the moment he had seen Dean's dead face, the second person he knew and had failed to protect, the true Harry inside him had surrendered, willingly being locked up in chains of death and darkness.  
  
Who would be the one to bring him back into the light?  
  
+++++  
  
please review, but no flames! My first attempt at a fanfic, so I hope you all will be nice! ^___^ I'm a very insecure person... yeah rite. 'newayz, hope you like this chap! 


	2. Breaking Friendships and a Meeting

Disclaimer: me no own Harry Potter or anything else the goddess J.K. Rowling has created. Though I wish I own Draco Malfoy.  
  
Pairings: HP/DM (confirmed slash), SB/RL (confirmed slash), RW/HG (maybe)  
  
The first three chapters are all quite boring since it's just to get the explanations and emotions all out of the way, so please stay with me. The action will pick up in the fourth chap, I promise!  
  
Chapter 2  
  
"Harry, please! The house elves made this especially for you! They're all worried, most of all Dobby!" Hermione pleaded with her friend, who was staring blankly into the Gryffindor common room fire like he had been ever since the day of Dean's death. That time, he had flown off after his outburst, and was found on the Quidditch stands later that evening, staring at the dark night sky. And after that, he seemed to lose all signs of life, going mindlessly through the motions of life, immersing himself in his studies - so that his grades improved drastically, and he was third in the school (and he would have been second if he was taking more subjects), and he even got good grades in *potions*, for heaven's sake! - and eating and speaking little.  
  
Hermione was extremely worried this time. If she thought he had been bad during fifth year, now, in the beginning of sixth year, he was much worse. He was growing thinner and thinner, and he was practically skin and bones now! He was silent unless called on in class, and even then his answers were short and to the point; he had a haunted, dark look in his eyes; he ignored all attempts to communicate with him. Even during Quidditch practices and matches, he played robotically, though with no less skill. And whenever he had free time, he would be found huddled in front of the Gryffindor fire, as if hypnotized by the flames.  
  
"Harry," began Hermione again, but then she shut up abruptly when he turned to look at her. Those once-shining green eyes were dull and lifeless, his face pale, skin stretched taut over bones. "Hermione," Harry said quietly, tonelessly, "Leave me alone." He then got up and headed up to his dorm, leaving Hermione standing there helplessly, with the jam tart she had been trying to convince Harry to eat in her hand.  
  
"Damn him..." Hermione whispered to the empty room. "Damn him!" She wiped tears from her eyes, placing the tart on an empty table, and sank to the floor, trembling with repressed sobs. Dammit, Harry was like her brother, and now he was in this state, and she couldn't do anything to help! She was so useless, so useless...  
  
That was how Ron found her, five minutes later, in a heap in the middle of the common room. He immediately went to her and soothed her, knowing that the reason for her helpless breakdown was Harry again. He himself felt the same way, except he broke down in the bathroom in private. They stayed like that for a while, Hermione sobbing in Ron's arms, and Ron trying not to cry as well. Hermione was always so mature, so knowledgeable, so composed, that it shook everyone up to see her losing control because of the way Harry was isolating himself from the world.  
  
Finally, when Hermione's sobs slowed, Ron asked gently, "He went to the common room, didn't he?" When she nodded, face still buried in his arms, he said comfortingly, "Don't worry, I'll try to talk to him... if he's still there."  
  
Hermione nodded again and sat up, rubbing her face and running her fingers through her wavy hair. "Go, quickly. Maybe he hasn't gone."  
  
Ron hugged her tightly, before standing and hurrying to his dorm. Maybe he hadn't gone... empty words, since Ron knew that Harry would definitely not be in their dorm. But there was still a glimmer of hope... no. Not when things were already at this stage. And sure enough, when he flung open the door, the window was open, the curtains fluttering in the cold autumn breeze; Harry's Firebolt gone from his bedside, his wand, the Marauder's Map, the Cloak and the flute Hagrid had made for him not there either. It was always like this. Every night, Harry would take these same few items and disappear to god knows where and only come back at dawn.  
  
Ron kicked the door in frustration, before trudging back to the common room. Hermione looked up, and smiled sadly. "We shouldn't get our hopes up like that every time, you know," she said lightly, patting the space next to her on the couch she was sitting on. Ron took the invitation and sat down, taking comfort in the warmth the fire gave and the calm Hermione radiated. Comfortable yet depressed silence reigned over the Gryffindor common room. The once-lively bunch of Gryffindors were now much more subdued, seeing that the boy they all looked up to and admired had become like this.  
  
"Is there any way... any at all... to bring back the Harry we know?" Ron dully asked. "I don't care what it is, as long as it brings Harry back, I'll welcome it with open arms and a huge party! No, scratch that. Even if it makes Harry show a bit of emotion, I'm happy. Not his robot that we've been seeing everyday. Even if he yells at me, that's fine. At least he'll be feeling *something*, even if that feeling is anger."  
  
"I know, Ron, I know," sighed Hermione. "Sometimes I just want to slap him to get some sense into his brain. But then I know if I did, he'd just look at me with that look in his eyes asking for more! He wants people to be angry at him, Ron, because he thinks it's all his fault. He'd want me to hit him again and again because he wants the pain, and if I stopped, he'd think I'm pitying him, and that's also what he hates!"  
  
Ron stared at her. "That's... really perceptive of you, Herm. Though I should have expected it of Hogwarts' top student and Gryffindor Prefect. But hearing that from you... now I know Harry's in a worse state than I thought. I just thought he's trying to dull the pain and isolate himself to save us... but this, this means he's given up on life itself."  
  
"Now that was deep, coming from you," Hermione smiled shakily.  
  
"Yeah, I'm surprised at myself, too."  
  
There was another pause in the conversation, with the two friends contemplating life and Harry.  
  
"School's more quiet, more boring, more tense these days," Hermione said eventually. "Even Malfoy's stopped picking fights. I'd expect him to make some crack about Harry's state, but he's just kept to himself, and the rest of the Slytherins are following his example, thank goodness. We could do with a rest in the eternal Slytherin-Gryffindor war."  
  
"I don't know..." Ron said slowly. "Look at it this way. Malfoy's always been the one who can challenge Harry the most, who can get Harry all riled up and fired to kick some Slytherin ass. But now that he's quiet too... there's a much less chance of Harry getting emotional. If he was the prat that he used to be, Harry would have to fight back sooner or later."  
  
This time it was Hermione's turn to gape at Ron. "That was really, really insightful of you, Ron. I never thought of it that way, I was just glad to escape his insults."  
  
"Don't get me wrong, I'm glad too. I'm just saying... well, I guess, if it means getting Harry back on track, then I wouldn't mind even Malfoy insulting us all over again. Heck, I'd even befriend the git and grovel at his feet if it would help!"  
  
"I'll remember that," teased Hermione, "And see if I can use it in the future!"  
  
Ron grimaced. "That won't happen, I'd die first."  
  
The two shared a light laugh, a rare sound in the Gryffindor tower these days. The fire cackled merrily in the grate, doing its best to fight off the chill, yet it was slowly but surely losing the battle to the cold wind that blew in from the world outside, as bit by bit, it invaded the warmth of the tower.  
  
+++++  
  
"OW! That bloody hurt! Can't you be more gentle, Pansy?" yelped Draco, wincing as the blonde Slytherin girl prodded his arm with her wand. Her straw-blond hair curtained her face as she peered down at Draco's arm, judging the extent of the damage. Ice-blue eyes narrowed critically, pale lips usually adorned with prominent lipstick pursed themselves, and a slim hand with perfectly manicured fingernails grasped a shiny wand tightly, pale skin contrasting with the dark brown of the wood.  
  
"Sorry," Pansy replied, not sounding at all sorry. "I can do broken bones, but I can't do anesthetics. So you'll just have to bear the pain while I fix that broken arm of yours." She started muttering a spell that had Draco howling with pain inside the sound-proof barrier he had cast around the private room he had gotten as a Slytherin Prefect.  
  
"Oh, shut up, Draco," Blaise Zabini had to raise his voice to be heard over the ruckus. His unique, clear purple eyes were watching the antics of his two best friends with amusement, from his sprawled position on top of Draco's four-poster bed. Black-dye-streaked golden-blonde hair, usually in some semblance of order, was messily spread out on the bed, since Blaise couldn't care less about appearances in front of his only confidantes. His brown-tanned skin (from enthusiastic flying practices) melded with the dark velvet Slytherin green of Draco's bedspread. "Be a man, not a sissy. The way you're going on, you sound like a damsel in distress."  
  
Draco immediately shut up and glared at Blaise. "You try having pieces of a broken arm shoving their way through muscle and tissue to glue themselves back together and see how you like it. You'll scream even worse than I do, since I've had experience and you don't."  
  
Blaise sat up, all traces of humour gone. "Seriously, Draco, what did you do this time?" he asked resignedly. "Haven't you learned anything by now? Just give in and you'll be fine."  
  
"Look, it's the principle of the thing, alright? I've tried to explain it time and again, and you still don't get it, so drop it," snapped Draco, wincing all the while as Pansy went on with her spell. "There are some things that even you two can't understand about me."  
  
"But Draco, I'll have to agree with Blaise," Pansy interrupted. "You still insist on Apparating to meet with him every time he orders you to, and at the same time you insist on antagonizing him on everything else. You're practically begging for a beating, and he never fails to give it to you! We're worried about you, Draco, really we are. The three of us stick together through thick or thin, like siblings, and we wish you'd stop being so secretive."  
  
"Yeah, we share all our secrets with you, but you're always the most mysterious, secretive one," Blaise butted in. "It's not very fair, you know."  
  
"Look, I really trust you guys, but there are some things that no one can ever know or understand! So stop interrogating me, alright?" He wrenched his healed arm out of Pansy's grasp and stood in one fluid motion. Grabbing his Invisibility Cloak (a birthday present from his mother) and wand, he swirled the cloak around him and disappeared from view. A moment later, the Firebolt next to the door disappeared as well, and then the door itself opened and closed, and Pansy and Blaise were left glaring at the wood as if it had mortally offended them.  
  
"Well! He doesn't have to act so high and mighty around *us*, does he? I understand when he puts on his cold, unfeeling, all-bow-to-me-Draco- the-Ice-Prince-of-Slytherin mask whenever he's around anyone else, but we've been best friends for so long!" Pansy complained to Blaise, who nodded in agreement.  
  
"He's been secretive ever since that Death Eater attack in fifth year. We lost him in the crowd then, wonder what happened after that to make him so moody? Before that he bit people's heads off for the slightest mistake, now he tears their limbs apart and chops them into mincemeat for just looking at him! Not that that's bad, of course," Blaise added as an afterthought, "But I wish he would trust us. He just goes, 'oh, you don't understand, leave me alone' and locks himself into his bedroom for the rest of the night whenever he comes back from meeting *him*. Today's a change in the routine; he actually went out instead of shoving us out of this room. Should we be happy about that?"  
  
"I pity Draco," Pansy mused, clearly not listening to Blaise. "At least we don't have that sort of problem."  
  
"What problem?"  
  
Pansy gave Blaise a Look.  
  
"Oh. Yeah. But still, he's got money, drop-dead looks, enough brains to be the second in the school, and everything else he could want. Why does he keep that glaring look on his face all the time? If it were me, I'd be grinning like an idiot."  
  
"That's because you *are* one," sniffed Pansy, ducking to avoid the pillow Blaise threw at her. "But speaking of things that we have, there's one thing that we have loads of and he doesn't, and that's what people really need the most, and I think especially him."  
  
"What's that?"  
  
"Love. The love a family gives - Draco doesn't have much of that. The love between friends - he used to trust us, but now, he's pulling away, like he's afraid of it. The deep, unexplainable love between lovers - to have someone you trust with your entire being, you deepest secrets, your soul, and be trusted and loved like that in return. That's what Draco really needs - oh, shut up, Blaise!" screeched Pansy, bonking a hysterically laughing Blaise on the head with the pillow he had just thrown at her. And thus ensued an energetic pillow fight, which resulted in a feather-covered room.  
  
"Oops."  
  
With a wave of two wands and muttered spells, the room was restored to its former pristine state. Plopping down on the couch, Pansy eyed Blaise on the bed. "Idiot. I meant every word. And you'd better take heed, too. What I said applies to everyone. He needs someone to trust with his entire self."  
  
"He can trust *us*."  
  
"Yes, but *we* know that, not him. That is to say, we know he can trust us, but he doesn't feel like he can, and it's *his* opinion that matters."  
  
"Maybe you're right," Blaise said tiredly. "But let's not talk about such girly stuff - okay, okay! I give!" he yelped as Pansy hit him right in the stomach with a ball lying conveniently around. "I meant, let's just leave this topic alone for a while, okay?"  
  
"Yeah, okay. What about Harry Potter, eh? He's also become much gloomier after that attack, when that Thomas guy died. I feel sorry for the Gryffindors, and especially Potter. He's so thin, and he looks so bone- weary, and it's affecting the Gryffindors too; they're not as cheerful and annoying as before, though that might be because those horrible Weasley pranksters are gone."  
  
"That's one thing both our houses have in common, then," noted Blaise. "Both our unofficial leaders have gone downhill since that attack, and we've all become more subdued."  
  
"That's good, and that's bad, too. The houses don't fight as much now, but the thing is, we don't even talk at all!"  
  
"Doesn't matter to me. It's all the same. Ravenclaws are nice and neutral, and though they're really smart, they don't show off. Hufflepuffs are mild and not worth bothering about. But Gryffindors... ugh, Gryffindors - always so high and mighty, thinking they're always right, and that all Slytherins are Voldemort's pets and loyal die-hard servants, and they eat up all the lies and propaganda fed to them. Who're they to judge us like that? Us three don't want to be Death Eaters, and we're the unofficial 'leaders' of Slytherin!" He scowled. "Can we change the subject again? I shudder to think that we have something in common with those Gryffindors."  
  
Blaise Zabini was a smart student, and was almost always right in his predictions and decisions, when he bothered to make them. But this time, he was wrong. The Gryffindors and Slytherins definitely had something in common, and time would prove it. It was just that nobody knew enough to see it yet. Nobody... except Albus Dumbledore.  
  
+++++  
  
Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts, sighed a soft sigh full of pensively profound meaning. His tall, thin form and silvery-white, thick beard were reflected mistily in the glass of the window before him. Light, bright blue eyes, set above a long, crooked nose, gazed unseeingly at the dark grounds.  
  
Fawkes settled on its master's shoulder, its golden plumage complementing the silver of Dumbledore's hair and beard. "Ah, Fawkes," greeted the Headmaster. "Isn't it a beautiful night? Look at all the stars glittering in the sky... but trouble is brewing beneath the calm. I am getting old, Fawkes, too old for all these complications... or rather, new developments in destiny. Developments which have the power to destroy all that we, the Light side, have worked for... or bring us to a great victory."  
  
He opened the window, letting the chill air blow in. Fawkes made a noise of discontent. "I'm sorry, my friend, but I have to leave the window open so that, later in the night, I can emphasize a point to our visitors. Tonight is the beginning, Fawkes. And we are lucky enough to witness it."  
  
He turned and settled himself down in his comfortable chair, steepling his long, callused fingers, deep in thought. Yes, tonight would be the start, but there would be many checkpoints along the race for victory. Little did he know how important some of these checkpoints were... and how dangerous.  
  
A slight tapping on his door alerted Dumbledore to his first visitor. "Come in," he called, guessing who the visitor was, and the door opened. He was right. A large, shaggy black dog padded silently into the room, nudging the door closed behind it. "Sirius, it is safe," Dumbledore said genially, and in an instant, the dog had transformed into a human. Sirius Black, wrongly accused convict, had been haggard and thin during his stay in the wizard prison Azkaban, almost going mad, but these past three years, he had improved much.  
  
Dumbledore cast an approving glance at Sirius, who was looking much better after being well cared for by Dumbledore's allies, whenever he went out on a mission. One of his right-hand men and trusted advisors, the muscular Animagus would have many girls swooning over him if they didn't run away screaming first. He fit the description 'tall, dark and handsome' perfectly, with his almost totally black outfit - leather jacket, simple white shirt, denim jeans, boots, fingerless motorcycle gloves, wind-swept black hair, and - was that a spiked dog collar? Dumbledore raised an eyebrow. "A dog collar, Sirius?" he asked mildly, lips twitching in a smile.  
  
Sirius grinned. "I just felt that it fitted the image, don't you think so? My Animagus form is a dog, I'm named after Sirius the Dog Star - and I like to think I'm wild, rough, and fun-loving like a dog. And girls love bad guy images, drives them wild." His midnight black eyes danced with mischief as he grinned; showing surprisingly white, even teeth in a tanned face. "Besides, I've been gone on missions ever since the Triwizard Tournament, so I wanted to have a surprise for you people after all this while. Boy, is Remus gonna faint!" he chuckled, imagining the look on his fellow Marauder and most trusted friend's face.  
  
Dumbledore smiled secretly to himself. Yes, Remus was going to have quite a surprise and might find it hard to stand, but not for the reason Sirius was thinking of. As a side observer, Dumbledore had seen things in Remus and Sirius's relationship that the two men in question hadn't noticed. But he would keep it a secret for now and not interfere... unlike the other relationship that was blossoming in Hogwarts. His expression darkened at the thought, but luckily it was missed by the tall Animagus, who had been distracted by another soft knock at the door.  
  
"Judging by the sound of the knock... that would be Remus!" exclaimed Sirius triumphantly as he swung open the door. And sure enough, Remus Lupin stood there, tugging at his worn robes, which covered beige slacks and a white collared shirt on a lean frame. His light brown hair, streaked with some grey due to the huge amount of stress he was under, which also resulted in his looking much older than his age, was a little messy, like he had run his hand through his hair. When he looked up, tired but alert stormy gray eyes in pale, weary face widened at the sight of this unexpected friend - wearing a leather motorcycle jacket and black tight- fitting denim?! And... Oh god, a dog collar?!  
  
Sirius grinned at his friend, noting with relief Remus's much healthier-looking appearance, compared to the last time he had seen him. Thank the gods that Remus was under Dumbledore's care, this way, Sirius could go off on his missions with one less person to worry about, since he knew Remus would eat well and wouldn't have so many burdens on his shoulders with the wise Headmaster around. But right now, Remus didn't look so good, what with his mouth hanging open and his eyes almost bulging out of their sockets. "Si... Sirius?!" the werewolf managed to croak.  
  
"In the flesh." Sirius's grin grew bigger, if that was possible, seeing his friend unable to do anything but gape. "Whoa, careful there," he chuckled, as Remus had to suddenly lean against the doorway to keep standing, since his legs seemed to have turned to jelly, partly from relief to see his innocently convicted friend back safely, and partly because... well, just *because*. There wasn't any other reason. He and Sirius had been friends ever since they were young, and he was the only true Marauder left besides Remus himself. They were *friends* and nothing more.  
  
Seeing Sirius smirking like mad, Remus gathered his wits from the four corners of the earth and miraculously, managed to stand. He swallowed and straightened his robes again. "Good to see you safe, Sirius," he greeted smoothly. Do NOT mention the outfit, do NOT look at the outfit, do NOT even THINK about the outfit... repeating that mantra over and over again, Remus made it safely past his friend and to one of the chairs in front of Dumbledore's table, which he collapsed gratefully into. He eyed the Headmaster, who was smiling at some inside joke, and decided to ignore it. "Hello, Headmaster."  
  
Sirius plopped himself down on the chair next to Remus, examining carefully the other man who was just as carefully not looking at him. With proper care, Remus had slowly shed the age from his appearance, and now looked more like the young adult he should be, not someone as world-weary as Dumbledore. Though he was thinner than Sirius, who was muscular from all the running he had to do to stay alive, he still looked pretty okay. In fact, he looked really good, the kind of person you'd trust in dark times, who'd listen to your sorrows, who you'd love wholeheartedly and unreservedly and who'd make a good partner for life... Sirius hastily looked away and prayed for a distraction so no one would see his face turning red.  
  
The gods answered his prayer for a distraction in the form of one scowling Severus Snape. The Potions master hadn't changed one bit, that scowl still there, together with the disgustingly greasy hair and that incorrigible hooked nose, matched horribly with the sallow, sickly looking skin. But then, once a git, always a git, so he couldn't hold it against the guy. Sirius imitated the sneer he had seen so many times before. "Snape. As ugly as before, have you killed any student with those looks of yours yet?"  
  
Snape's eyes narrowed and his lips turned up into a sneer that matched Sirius's in its venom. "I see you finally admitted to being the dog you are, Black, about time too."  
  
They had a staring match, faces twisting into more and more horrible expressions with each passing second, with Remus and Dumbledore looking on in amused resignation, until there was yet another knock on the still opened door. "Excuse us, Severus, but you're blocking the doorway."  
  
Snape gave one last glare before moving to a wall and leaning against it, folding his arms into his robes. They turned to look at the newest arrivals, a stern, imposing Minerva McGonagall, with her grey hair in a bun as always; a large, ruddy-faced, bushy-haired-and-bearded Rubeus Hagrid; and a dreamy-eyed, mystery-filled Astronomy teacher, Professor Sinistra. They filed in and each found a seat, greeting the rest of the people in the room.  
  
"Only four more till we can start the meeting!" announced Dumbledore cheerfully. "A few more minutes are all it will take. Ah, I believe that we have ourselves two more guests!" And sure enough, a few moments later, two redheaded people entered the room. Arthur Weasley looked the same as ever, though his hairline seemed to have receded even more, and Charlie Weasley had gotten a snake fang earring that rivaled Bill's. Dumbledore supposed that Molly had had a fit about that.  
  
"Hello, everyone, long time no see," Charlie grinned good-naturedly. His eyes fell on Sirius and he laughed. "Hey, Sirius, I like the collar! I hope Bill doesn't see that, he might get wild ideas." He fingered his new earring with pride as he sank into a couch with his father.  
  
"Why is the window open, Headmaster?" asked Arthur, puzzled. "Autumn came very, very early this year, so even though it's been a week since September started, the cold winds have already been blowing in."  
  
"Yes, Arthur, I do realize that, but I have left the window open on purpose, for to show you all something later this night. I apologise if it gets a bit drafty, but that's what the fire is for," beamed Dumbledore.  
  
"Alright..." Arthur replied a little doubtfully.  
  
The last two guests to the meeting appeared after a minute of waiting. "Sorry we're late," was the first thing out of Mundungus Fletcher's mouth as he breezed in with Arabella Figg just a step behind. Fletcher was an eccentric-looking, fifty-something yet still very energetic man, who was wearing mismatched clothes, striped multi-coloured socks, and large shoes; but his weird fashion sense was made up for by his bright, reassuring grin and optimistic lookout on life. His good humour was infectious, and if you stayed around him for long, you would find yourself smiling widely too, which was why he had many friends.  
  
Figg appeared an old woman, but once she was sure there were only allies and no enemies about, her hunched back straightened, her walking stick disappeared, the wrinkles on her face smoothed out, her clothes changed to something more suitable instead of old, baggy, 'grandmother' kind of clothes, and if you looked closely, you would see her grey hair was merely a product of hair dye. Without these (and an old croaky voice when she spoke) to make her appear old, Arabella was a plain young woman wearing sensible clothes with a soft-spoken voice and great acting skills.  
  
As the door closed behind them, everyone in the room cast a spell of their own. Now there were a few soundproof barriers, invisible but physical barriers, magical barriers, and an illusion spell (that showed only Dumbledore reading in an empty room, to whoever happened to look in) enclosing the room. It was as safe as this small, select group of the vast organization of the Order of the Phoenix could make it.  
  
Dumbledore looked around at all his trusted advisors. They looked back at him seriously; temporarily putting aside past grudges for more important matters. He was proud of how much they had achieved in a mere year. Today was not really a meeting to discuss current matters, but to tell them about the prophecy, which would come later.  
  
The great wizard cleared his throat and began. "My fellow wizards and witches, I thank you for taking the time today. My only regret is that some of us cannot make it, but they send messages that they are well and their work progressing smoothly.  
  
"Now, on to the current matters. Voldemort is still continuing his relentless attacks on wizarding settlements, not only in Britain, but also in other countries like Russia, America, Europe and even the Asian continent. However, due to warnings we have gotten to them in time, the respective Ministries have taken precautions and alerted their citizens, so the casualty rate, so far, is reasonably low. And Hogsmeade has been attacked quite a number of times too, seeing how it's close to Hogwarts. Perhaps they are trying to capture it as a base, but so far it's holding up well, and we have no reason to worry as of yet.  
  
"And now, we will hear updates on your work. We will start with Arthur, and before I forget, I must congratulate you on being chosen for the position of Britain's Minister of Magic."  
  
Arthur Weasley gaped. "I thought the results weren't out yet!" he blurted.  
  
Dumbledore beamed as Charlie shook his father's hand profusely, enthusiastically congratulating the shocked man, and said, "Yes, that may be to the public, Arthur, but an inside confidante in the Ministry has just alerted me to the news, since I am the one who nominated you in the first place. It will be in the papers tomorrow. I should think Mr. Ronald Weasley will have a great shock when he sees the article. I believe you will perform the job most admirably, better than Cornelius, at least. It is sad that he was voted out, but it had to be done, for blinding himself to the truth that Voldemort has returned."  
  
There was a great deal of noise, mostly from Sirius ("Good job there, Arthur! Kick some ass!"), Charlie ("My dad! Minister of Magic! Wait till old Lucius sees this, hope he'll kick the bucket and stub his toe while at it! Do you think ol' Ronnie will choke on his porridge or whatever he eats for breakfast? I know Mum sure will!"), and Mundungus ("Yes! An old boy like me, the Minister! Show them what our generation can do, old chap! Hurrah and all that!"), and quieter comments from the others, with the exception of Snape, whose scowl deepened. Anyone Sirius liked, he would not allow himself to do the same. But secretly, deep, deep, deep down inside, he was glad that someone as sensible and loyal as Arthur was chosen for Minister.  
  
Finally, after the noise had died down, Arthur coughed embarrassedly and said, "Thanks for all your encouragement. As you know, I've been gathering confirmed allies in the Ministry and pinpointing those that are even the least bit suspicious. I already have a few definite allies that we can be very sure are not working for Voldemort in any way and will help us do whatever they can. With this new position, I can do more thorough research on each person without suspicion. That's about all so far, really."  
  
Dumbledore nodded, pleased. "Thank you, Arthur. Charlie?"  
  
Charlie smiled. "Some dragon colonies have agreed to help the Light side, and others are hesitating, but I think they'll be quickly convinced by the dragons already on our side. Norbert - you know, Hagrid's dragon? - is one of the leaders that are active in this anti-Dark movement stirring among the dragons. And some of them tell me they will contact the dragons in the other countries, like you asked me to ask them, Headmaster."  
  
"All in all, a very satisfactory report," mused Dumbledore. "I am glad we have such a promising Dragonheart like you on our side, Charlie. It's very rare to find one with special abilities outside of ordinary magic, and it's even rarer to have this particular one. The balance tilts in our favour, with you, blessed with the gift of understanding dragons, being *accepted* by the dragons as one of them, on our side." Charlie went a little red at this, and waved the praise away.  
  
One by one, the people in the room gave their reports on the progress they had made in their missions. Mundungus, given the mission of contacting and confirming allies all over the world due to his friends and contacts everywhere, had gotten secure communication lines to the American Minister of Magic, a confirmed anti-Dark ally, to the Russian President (of muggles) who was also the Deputy Minister of Magic of Russia, to some key ministry leaders in France, and other important people in big and small nations. Being fluent in all sorts of languages, he was a key player in the anti- Dark movement network that was expanding across the world.  
  
Arabella Figg, another one blessed with the special abilities that sometimes surfaced in a witch or wizard, was given the task of converting each and every animal in the world to the Light side as spies, with her Animagius abilities - the gift of shifting into or talking to any animal at will. Her network of trained animals had alerted wizarding settlements of attacks beforehand and saved many lives. The animals, each with heightened senses much sharper than any humans', were invaluable help in the defense against Voldemort.  
  
The teachers all gave reports on the various stages of research they had done concerning little known spells to protect Hogwarts and to repel intruders. McGonagall was researching on spells that could transfigure enemies into things easy to imprison, and the spells had to be able to do so through the many layers of magical protection the enemy was sure to have. If not done properly, the spell would probably last only a few seconds.  
  
Snape was researching on potions to heal Dark wounds, which not only affected the physical body, but the mind and soul; added to that he was researching potions that could penetrate layers of defense spells to hurt that enemy, and also ways to increase a spell's potency. Hagrid was breeding creatures that would be tame under the right hands but attack the enemy ferociously, and were hard to kill, but being the... not very bright nor meticulous person he was, the research wasn't coming along very well. Dumbledore had plans to change this, however.  
  
Sinistra was researching on ways to strengthen both spells and potions using the power of the stars, and to predict using which star arrangements on which day would be more suitable for setting up the spells, to maximize their strength. Remus, the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, was of course, researching on ways to defend against the dark arts.  
  
Finally everyone had spoken, and they all fell silent once again.  
  
"Alright, enough of the practical information, I'm sure everyone must be impatient by now, wondering why on earth I had asked you all to gather, when I had just done so a few weeks ago. It is because after years of hard work, I have finally concluded my research." Dumbledore looked around at all the curious faces. "Yes, yes, what research, you may ask? I will explain."  
  
He looked at his antique pocket-watch. Fifteen minutes to midnight and the beginning of the start. He had better do some talking fast.  
  
"As you all know, there are two kinds of prophecies. One is the kind of silly predictions that people make to achieve fame. The other is the true kind, the ones which are repeatedly made over centuries by many different Seers. The latter are not identical, but they all have points in common, and these points make up the main idea of the prophecies. It is hard work to trace down all these prophecies and translate them, for they are vague and written in Seer style, which is hard for us to understand. But all this I did, and I compared them to each other. And from the many different versions of this particular prophecy, I have pinpointed a few constant predictions. I shall read to you translations of each point now."  
  
He rummaged through the top drawer, then the second drawer, then the third, then got up and went to the cupboard, rifling through the items and papers there, before going to the other cupboard. Remus coughed lightly. "Uh, Headmaster, is that the paper you're looking for?" he asked, pointing at a single sheet of paper on the floor.  
  
"Oh, yes, how careless of me. Thank you, Remus. Now, where was I? Ah, yes." Dumbledore cleared his throat. "Listen, now."  
  
The Darkness advances across the Light,  
  
Warmth surrenders quickly to Cold's might.  
  
Early the chill, early the Dark,  
  
On the Ninth the Twelfth leaves its mark.  
  
"That is the most straightforward quote I could find. Do you understand it?" queried Dumbledore, looking around.  
  
"The dark, the cold. It's quickly taking over the warmth and the Light. That's the first two lines, is it not?" Professor Sinistra replied in her musically mysterious voice. "Early the chill... the Twelfth leaves its mark... that should mean, in that particular year, winter comes early, the cold in December, the twelfth month, showing up as early as in September, the ninth month."  
  
"Which perfectly describes this month." Realization dawned on Sirius's face. "The prophecy is talking about this month, when it's so much colder than it should be at this time of year!"  
  
"Yes," said Dumbledore gravely. "But we must not forget the first two lines... darkness is advancing quickly, that is also true. And there is more."  
  
Fire, Wind, Water, Earth,  
  
Elementals four there be.  
  
Twice as two, two times twice,  
  
Stronger than some shall see.  
  
There was silence. "That's worse than the other one," Sirius finally admitted. "I mean, I get the first part. There are going to be four people with elemental power, the traditional fire, wind, water and earth. This prophecy I've heard of before. But 'twice as two, two times twice/strong and weak shall see'? What's that?"  
  
"That is already the simplest version I could find. Seers love to confound. But after comparing and nitpicking at the other similar versions of this rhyme, I figure it to mean that there will be four others (that's the 'two times twice' part) who will have double elemental powers (which is the 'twice as two' part); and the last sentence could either be stating the obvious, that these 'double elementals' are stronger than the 'lesser elementals', or it could mean that within the 'double elementals' themselves, there are ones with stronger powers."  
  
It took the listeners a moment to digest Dumbledore's words. When they did, McGonagall asked, frowning a little, "That's the most specific interpretation? Nothing about what kind of powers the double elementals will have? The lesser elementals each have control over one element, but the double elementals will have control over two each. Which two, if there are only four of them? Isn't there any hint?"  
  
"Well, we do have a clue," said Dumbledore slowly. "It is because of that clue that I started researching this prophecy in particular."  
  
"What's that?"  
  
"I myself... am a Double Elemental."  
  
Absolute, total silence reigned over the room.  
  
"And I have reason to believe that so is Voldemort."  
  
A slight choking sound.  
  
"And I am quite sure that Cedric Diggory and Bartemius Crouch Junior were both Lesser Elementals."  
  
A sad sort of silence ensued as they pondered the deaths of these two men, one a promising leader of Light, the other the only man who could have proved to the wizarding world that Voldemort indeed had risen again, but was silenced forever by the Dementor's Kiss.  
  
"And that Lestrange, the husband of the husband and wife team who are loyal to Voldemort - "  
  
A growl of hatred -  
  
"And Sirius... are both Lesser Elementals."  
  
Pause.  
  
"WHAAAAAT?!" Sirius's yell almost shattered everyone's eardrums. Thank goodness there had been a soundproof barrier around the room or people outside would think someone had just screamed bloody murder. Which, come to think of it, someone had.  
  
"Headmaster, you can't be serious! I've never had any connection to any of the elementals!" protested Sirius wildly. "I mean, come on, if I was one, I'd know, wouldn't I? I would have some inkling of it, and I don't!"  
  
"Sirius. It is a good thing, to have this power, to protect those that you love and to assist the Light. Haven't you ever felt extremely comfortable floating in water, or just relaxing when breathing in fresh air, or loving the feel of earth beneath your feet, or just feeling safe when basked in the warmth of a fire?" Dumbledore asked, smiling.  
  
"No!" Then Sirius paused thoughtfully. "On the other hand..."  
  
He went over to the fire and hesitated, before closing his eyes. What was that feeling, that warm, safe, comfortable feeling he had, whenever he was just sitting there by the fire, reveling in its warmth, feeling it welcome him, sing out to him, call to him to join it in its dancing... what was that feeling, if not a connection to his element, fire? It would make sense, then, they way he loved to do all his work, plan all his jokes (mostly on Snape), or just relax by a blazing fire, and it would also explain why he had such a hot temper. Fire... he opened himself up, hands reaching out to the flames, joining in the dance of the sparks, giving himself up to the warmth and the light.  
  
The convict turned back to his stunned audience. Even Snape was gaping, and that was saying something. Sirius smirked as scarves of flame weaved a tapestry of colour around him, forming beautiful, abstract patterns in the air, and he looked like a fiery, devilish angel. Then he spoiled the image, grinning impishly, and snapped his fingers. The fire formed shapes around him, which had Remus bursting out into laughter, followed by everyone else; even Snape tried to hide a smile. Sirius had formed a red devil's tail, horns, and trident with the fire; he posed there, looking for all the world like a tried-and-true devil.  
  
"If only I had known about this sooner, I would have used it to play some remarkable tricks on Snape that would have gone down in Hogwarts history and sent him to St. Mungo's," Sirius remarked airily as he sent the fire back to its grate, returning to his seat. Snape glared daggers at him, but he pretended not to notice.  
  
"Well, that was an amazing display, Sirius. Looks like you will have no problems mastering your element. I will talk to you later, about how we will determine the extent of your power and how we can use it. Now, Cedric should have been earth, and Crouch, air. So that leaves Water for Lestrange." Dumbledore paused, and then suddenly changed topics. "But we're getting off-track. Severus, did you bring the potion I asked you to?"  
  
"Yes, here." Snape looked startled as he drew out a vial of white pearly liquid that seemed to shimmer. "The strongest I could make."  
  
Dumbledore took it and looked at it. Finally he spoke. "This potion lets you sense magic that is not of the normal kind all wizards and witches have. It is one of the potions Severus recently discovered from the ancient texts he is looking into. This means it lets you sense magic, but only magic that is actively being used and not passively lying dormant inside us. We will be able to sense the special abilities that Bill and Arabella have, and for our purposes tonight, Elemental magic. We will actually feel it in our heart, in our bones, the magic that is being used.  
  
"I have asked Severus to make this tonight, for we will use it to behold the meeting of two magicks that will decide the future of the world. For it is written in the prophecy."  
  
Light and Dark,  
  
Bonded of fate.  
  
Two lost halves,  
  
Born of hate.  
  
Together as one,  
  
Rarest of sky.  
  
Hidden in dark,  
  
Tears of why.  
  
World's fate,  
  
They hold;  
  
Elementals two,  
  
They be.  
  
Thus begins  
  
The song  
  
Of Music  
  
Of Destiny.  
  
"This is the main point of the prophecy. And this is what I have been waiting for. Tonight, at midnight, when the star and planet arrangement in the sky is the rarest of all, only appearing once every thousand years." Dumbledore picked up a spoon conveniently lying about and dripped a drop of the potion into it, then tipped that drop into his throat.  
  
Accepting the potion, Professor Sinistra murmured, "Rarest of sky... tonight, midnight. I see." She drank, and passed it to Arabella, who was nearest. Each drank the potion in turn, then turned to Dumbledore expectantly.  
  
The great wizard simply turned to face the window, and uttered a single word. "Listen."  
  
And they did.  
  
+++++  
  
I wanted to continue this chapter, but it's already so long... almost twice the normal length of the chapters I usually write! If I continue the scene like I wanted to, it would be over 10, 000 words... and then even I wouldn't have the patience to continue reading, and I like long chapters. So, the next scene is actually linked to this scene, but the next scene will begin the next chapter. Hope that makes sense.  
  
Next chap: Harry and Draco meet, but they don't know who the other is! Puzzled? Read on! And the meeting continues, and the prophecy is explained, though I'm sure you already have an inkling of what it means. And a stereotypical plot twist appears. But it's stereotypical in a good way.  
  
Review, please! ^__^ 


	3. Destiny Begins its Song

Summary: Summary: HP/DM SLASH! Set in 5th year & beyond, continuing from the 4th book. Harry & Draco are suffering from reality & withdraw from the Light into the Dark. As the world readies for war, Harry finds out startling secrets about his past, prophecies involving him & Draco. He pushes away the people he loves, hurting both himself and them. And Draco's torn between the Light and the Dark, with pressing reasons on each side to consider. They find each other through the music they find solace in, away from prying eyes, while War begins its deadly march. And the world meets someone it never imagined still existed.  
  
Disclaimer: me no own Harry Potter or anything else the goddess J.K. Rowling has created. Though I wish I own Draco Malfoy.  
  
Pairings: HP/DM, SB/RL, RW/HG  
  
The pairings aren't confirmed yet except ones above, so if you want any other pairing in particular, feel free to ask!  
  
To mrs potter, Epitome, the anonymous Julie, sunny-historian (and thanks, too, for putting me on your favourites list!), and Sake, thanks so much for reviewing! And double thanks to atsu Tenshi for reviewing twice! And how could I forget my friends, trix, ame, yanmin, Jenny and enyi - thanks, everyone. Reviews are what really keep me writing, and I check them every single time I go online. And Ame, especially, for being a great beta! So arigato gozaimasu, thank you, xie xie ni, muchas gracias, merci beaucoup, selamat, and all the rest.  
  
And Sake, the meeting is about the prophecy which is about Harry and Draco and the Elementals. Crabbe and Goyle and the other Slytherins come later, but it's Pansy and Blaise that are Draco's confidantes, so that's why it's only them three together in that chap.  
  
As for Kali's comments, I know the first part is ooc. My friends have told me as much (the quote is 'a bit overdone'), but my reasoning is: Hermione and Ron have been distraught over Harry's condition for two long years, and the more they try, the more hopeless and upset they feel. And everybody else in the school has also become more sullen and quiet. And this sort of atmosphere will make even the most cheerful person change. And if you're talking about Harry and Draco being ooc, then hopefully their thoughts in this chap will explain their actions. And my prophecies aren't very good, but that's the best I can make it, since prophecies aren't poems, and they're supposed to be confusing and vague.  
  
What I'm trying to say through all this crap is, nobody's perfect. And nothing's perfect either. And my writing controls me - I originally meant for Harry to be his normal self, except he doesn't share his feelings and thought and secrets with his friends like before. But somehow... it just ended up that way. Which meant I had to change half of my original plot. Gaaaaah. Thanks for your review, though. Hope you'll continue reading and give more 'constructive criticism'!  
  
Ok, now read on! And if you don't mind reading original fiction, please look for my username at fictionpress.net and review! *shameless self- promoting* ^__^  
  
Hope this is interesting and that you all won't get too bored reading this! I know it's long.  
  
Chapter Three  
  
Harry shivered as the cold wind bit into him through his robes and Invisibility Cloak. He bent forward slightly on his Firebolt, hunkering down against the chill, and urged it higher, higher... within moments he was on the Hogwarts roof, in the northernmost corner, landing on the stone flagstones. The wide stone ledge that ran around the edge of the vast roof made good seats, though there was the danger of losing your balance to the wind that blew strongly, mostly from the north.  
  
The green-eyed boy sighed, frustrated that he had to use his second choice for his private hideaway. His first choice, a nice *warm* fire-lit room at the very end of the fourth floor, had been taken up tonight by a couple making out. He could hear the moans all the way from the end of the corridor. A quick check of the map told him that there indeed were two people in the room (right on top of each other, as it happened), and that Filch was nearing his corridor. He had quickly mounted his broom and had flown out of the nearest window.  
  
Shivering, the boy conjured up some wood, then muttered the fire- spell he had picked up from Hermione when she had used it twice in first year. He nodded, satisfied, when the blue fire burned the wood, casting an eerie blow glow all around. It made him uneasy, somehow. To see fire, something he looked at everyday, look so unfamiliar was just... well, it was creeping him out. But then he shrugged it off and took out his flute.  
  
The rough wood felt cool in his hands, reminding him of better times, when Hagrid had made the flute for him, when he had not truly feared and understood the dangers lying in wait for him, just plunging into it unthinkingly. Now he seemed to be doing nothing but think, and he knew now how foolish he was back then. Dragging Ron into the basilisk lair with him was stupid. He could have gotten killed - Harry himself almost had! Even Lockheart hadn't deserved that. Hermione, too, she was attacked by the basilisk trying to help him. Why hadn't he realized what the monster was sooner? He should have been researching it himself!  
  
And Ginny! She had gotten hurt, manipulated, pushed within an inch of death, and it was because Harry had been too stupid to recognize the diary for what it was, for not telling Dumbledore. And she still continued to admire him, to respect him, care for him - that was the worst part. He didn't deserve her. He didn't deserve any of them. All he did was get them killed; Cedric and Dean's death had proved that. He knew he had promised himself to go back to the normal Boy-Who-Lived whom they all respected, but he couldn't. He just couldn't. He had thought a lot that fateful day, and he'd come to the conclusion that he would rather them be worried than dead.  
  
Shaking his head to clear it of such thoughts, Harry lifted the flute again. Every night, he escaped from reality to somewhere private, a time when he dropped the impenetrable wall he had built around him and let the Harry he was deep inside express himself through music. He just let go, pouring out all the emotions he had bottled up the entire day to the black night. And it made him feel better, at least until he put down his flute and went back to the tower and the suffocating life he led in the brightness of day.  
  
The natural talent Harry had at playing the flute had revealed its existence last year, when he had first brought it along with him on his nightly escapes as something to pass the time. Little did he expect how comfortable he was with the flute; he could play any tune he wanted without thinking about it. It seemed so right, somehow, to just lose himself in the music, letting it envelope him in its sweet melody while he pondered the tangled mystery that was himself.  
  
The first few notes of a haunting tune that had been running through his head all day long hung in the night air, the soft, rich sound of the flute resonating gently in a sweet serenade to the sky. Then, as Harry relaxed into his music, the melody flowed forth from the hollow wood, its sad, melancholy tone weaving a tapestry of song against the backdrop of the majestic stone castle and the starburst-patterned velvet cloth of night. The sheer intensity of the song reflected the tumultuous emotions of the lone figure on the roof, with his eyes closed and the blue light of the fire flickering over him, battling with the shadows for possession of this fragile, fallen angel.  
  
The initially soft song gradually grew stronger with passion, as the flutist gave his all to the music. The notes, carried by the wind, haunted the ancient fortress of Hogwarts, immersing the castle in the flowing liquid fire of his music. Grief, hurt, sorrow, hatred, sadness, guilt, everything that Harry held back inside of him so as not to worry everyone more than they already did condensed into an unearthly song that left any person who heard it breathless with the powerful emotions that buffeted them, and brought tears to their eyes.  
  
Yet, with all its heavenly beauty, it seemed so lonely; a string of sound, not a chorus, a choir. But a flute can only play a note at a time, and so, it was condemned to being alone, like how Harry had condemned himself to being alone. He would never reach out for help, because if he did, the death that surrounded him would swallow his friends too. So he had to stay inside the prison he created for himself, inside the darkness, because nobody could know the real Harry, who wanted nothing more in the world than to be able to be with people who loved him and whom he loved back.  
  
Forever alone...  
  
Then Harry faltered in his playing, too stunned to continue. For intertwining with his flute's song, quiet enough to let the flute's melody rise above it in a solo, were the soft harmonious sounds of a piano's accompaniment.  
  
+++++  
  
Draco alighted silently onto the Hogwarts roof, in the warmest corner he could find, which happened to be on the south side of the castle, protected by high walls that blocked the winds coming in from outside the school. In this cold weather, he was thankful that he wore his warm cashmere clothing instead of his normal silk outfit. The fact that there were warming charms woven into the cloth didn't hurt, either.  
  
Taking out his wand, he charmed his hands with a warming spell so that they wouldn't freeze up. Then, digging in his pocket, he took out what looked like a tiny replica of a grand piano and a piano bench, all shiny and black. Blowing gently on them to get rid of any dirt, he set them on the ground and quickly cast a spell before they could be blown away. The next second, Draco smiled as he trailed a pale hand along his piano, which was now the normal size, and then sat down on the sturdy bench.  
  
He loved the piano, and had played it since young, but it had only been a pastime, and before that a chore that his parents made him go through. This last year, the piano had become more and more important to him, as it was his only companion in the night, when he would just take it out of his pocket and undo the shrinking spell he had put on it and just... play. Play out his feelings, his agonized troubles, his confused emotions, his torn loyalties, his rage... it had become his refuge, the only one that knew everything about Draco. Lately it had become his life, one of the last few fraying strings that kept him tied to the sane world.  
  
Sighing, Draco flexed his fingers; ready to play whatever tune came to his mind first, when he froze. Was that... music? The word music hardly did it justice. It was... it was alive, with a soul of its own, weaving in and out of the winds, weaving around the school, weaving around *him*. It was angelic, it was heavenly, it was unearthly, it was devilish, burning the senses like fire and yet cooling the mind like water. It was... it was...  
  
It was like his own music.  
  
His first thought was, *I think I've finally lost my mind, but then, if I had, shouldn't I be going 'Bwahahaha Voldie's a lizard' by now?* And his second thought - *This must be real, then. Impossible, but real. I've died, then, and gone to heaven. Except I don't think heaven's this damned bloody cold.*  
  
All along, Draco had thought he was the only one who had abandoned himself through music, thought he was the only one in this world who felt so lonely, so hurt, so lost, so helpless. Thought he was the only one so messed up, thought he was weird for loving his music like that, for thinking his music alive. But here was someone who shared the same state as he was in, shared the same emotions, shared the same passion, the same music... he didn't know how he could tell all that just through *music*, but he could. He could feel the other person's sorrow through that lonely flute melody that reached out to his very soul.  
  
He was spellbound, just living, reveling in that sound, when he suddenly realized he knew the song. It was a beautiful, heart wrenching instrumental piece that haunted your mind for a long time after you had heard it. That was one of the reasons why he had searched out the musical score and learned it, until he could play it by heart. It was one of his favourite pieces, called Sadame. Even the name sounded cool - it was Japanese for fate, destiny. And it was a Muggle song, too, which was also another reason why he chose to learn it, because he wanted to prove he would never bow down to -  
  
But that wasn't the point, was it? Draco calmed himself down, knowing that he wouldn't play well with his composure agitated. He repositioned his fingers, lips moving as he counted the beat to the song, waiting for the right moment to join in, and then did just that.  
  
He played very softly at first, then when he was sure he had the correct tune and timing, he released his soul into it, playing like he always did, but holding back just enough so that it wouldn't drown out the flute. He felt the music being lifted into the air by the wind, and rushing to meet the flute's tune. Like two long-lost friends, the notes twined around each other, melding into each other like one whole, one seamless melody, one perfect song.  
  
Then the other music hesitated, withdrawing into itself, and Draco prayed fervently that it wouldn't stop altogether. Not when he had finally found someone who could, perhaps, truly understand him. He let this worry flow through the notes, with a hint of a plea, of reassurance that nothing which showed itself in the day mattered in the night, except who you truly were, your core, your soul. His music wrapped itself around the other, buoying it, a comfortable, steady support; like the constant, passive strength of Nature, of wood and of earth, of the flowing coolness of soft breezes.  
  
Please... let whoever that is realize that all I want to do is understand... and be understood in return. Please...  
  
+++++  
  
Harry sometimes went for a walk in the Forbidden Forest, along the outskirts, nothing dangerous. Just deep enough into the woods that he was surrounded by the woody smell, the crisp green, the comforting feel of Nature, with the rustling sound of laughing breezes teasing the leaves. It comforted him, made him feel so at ease, sort of like how he felt when he played his flute; like he was safe, protected, and the trees and plants wouldn't let any harm come to him.  
  
He felt that sense of peace now, with the piano music that seemed to twine around him. He could feel the other's hope for understanding, for belonging. Just like him. Here was someone who felt the same way as he did about the characters they played on life's stage, felt the same depression about it all. Someone like him. Someone like him... how could he even think of giving up this chance to find someone who might really understand?  
  
He let his music sing free, and the two harmonies melded into each other again. Now the song was so much more potent than before... it wasn't silhouetted against the sky, it *was* the sky. It was the aged stone of the castle, it was the teasing dance of the wind, it was the flowing silk of water, it was the burning passion of fire, it was the calm strength of earth, it was the vibrant laughter of life, it was the bittersweet pain of death... it was the seamless melding of two souls, once lost and broken, now beginning to mend with the other's help.  
  
Somewhere in the distance, a clock started chiming... it was midnight. It was exactly midnight, when Harry and Draco each finally accepted a helping hand, and let someone into the fortresses that were their hearts. But they were cautious at first, holding back, trying to determine just how much they could trust each other with. For even though they opened the door, it did not mean they let the other step inside and explore... for now, anyway.  
  
Who are you?  
  
~Does it matter? Names... are what define us by the day, but this is night. Night, where we can be ourselves, without the masks we lock into place when people are around.~  
  
But names are also what define us. To be ourselves... we must know who we are.  
  
~True... I suppose that we must not let our names define us, but let us define our names.~  
  
Yes, but all that is irrelevant right now, I should think. Is it not? For we have become Us, not You and Me.  
  
~Maybe, but there is still a bit of You and Me in that Us.~  
  
Yes, otherwise it won't be an Us at all.  
  
~Do you get the feeling we're beating around the bush, and not making sense while at it?~  
  
Now that you mention it... I might have noticed it about, oh, ever since the start of the conversation?  
  
Light laughter swirled through the music, lightening the undertone of angst. The two boys were communicating through the tune that they played. They didn't stop to wonder how it was possible to express words through music, because it all seemed so natural to just let it flow. This was beyond words, a higher, purer form of magic; music itself was magic, the most beautiful kind of all. They spoke with their hearts, without the constraints of verbal speech, with music as their link; they could feel the other's emotions, the truth in their 'words', the sincerity, which they could not do when just talking.  
  
~Do you always come to the roof at night?~  
  
No, I usually stay in my room with a soundproof spell on it, and I don't play every night.  
  
~I see... I play every night, in some empty room in Hogwarts.~  
  
A pause.  
  
Why?  
  
~Why what? I go to an empty room?~  
  
Don't play dumb. You know.  
  
There was a thoughtful hesitation in the flute's song, while the piano's tone was encouraging and patient.  
  
~I don't want my friends to worry. I don't want them to get hurt.~  
  
Because if they help you, they're bound to get hurt.  
  
~Yes, exactly. I don't want... pity. Excuses. I didn't do things I was supposed to, and I guess this is the consequence.~  
  
I guess we're in the same situation, except that I do things I'm not supposed to, and end up paying for it.  
  
~And because... there are some secrets that I just can't share with them. No matter how much they want to help.~  
  
Because they just won't be able to understand...  
  
~And they might push you away if they knew.~  
  
And you simply just want to protect them.  
  
~And you have to get used to being alone because if you start caring, your wall might just crumble.~  
  
And you won't be able to live up to the image people expect of you.  
  
~And then you'd be letting them down.~  
  
And you never want to do that, because even though you can't trust them with such secrets, they're still the people you love most and trust most and you want them to respect you... as you.  
  
~You know, it's a little unnerving to hear all your innermost thoughts and feelings expressed by someone else.~  
  
Tell me about it.  
  
The song ended, and subconsciously, they started on another song. But this time, the song wasn't such a sad one. There were parts of the song that felt more hopeful, more uplifting. It was soulful and rich, called Forbidden Love.  
  
And as the night wore on, the stars seemed to twinkle more brightly than ever, and the moon and planets seemed to glow, marking the start of an ancient prophecy and a new path fraught with danger and inevitable hurt, pain and betrayal, but also unity, hope and bliss. And two special individuals, who by deciding their own fate would decide the fate of the world, were setting out on that treacherous path.  
  
But right now, they were just two confused teenage wizards reaching desperately for any ray of hope that stretched down to them, tentatively beginning to trust again. New friendships, love and alliances would be formed, old prejudices and feuds broken, fears and secrets brought out of dark hiding places, loyalties re-examined, hard, painful decisions and choices made; all because of this one night that started it all, the night when the Music of Destiny began playing its song.  
  
+++++  
  
"I think that's quite enough, don't you agree?" Dumbledore managed to sound calm and composed even through the tears that ran down his aged face. He cleared his throat and fished out a handkerchief to wipe away his tears and blow his nose before closing the window, shutting out most of the duet that played outside. A trace of the music still managed to find its way in, like a whisper of secret teasing the subconscious, as the great wizard turned around to face his audience once again.  
  
Snape roughly wiped away the liquid that gathered in his eyes, though the redness in his face that came from crying still remained. Minerva, Sinistra, and Arabella, the more emotional females in the room, and Mundungus whose didn't see the point of hiding emotions around friends, were still crying unashamedly into handkerchiefs that Dumbledore supposed they had conjured from thin air. The Weasleys had their eyes closed, but tears still leaked out, and they were sniffling. Hagrid was bawling into his hands.  
  
Sirius had an arm around Remus, and both their heads were bowed, shoulders shaking a little. Remus had his hands clenched in his lap, and Sirius had balled the hand that wasn't bracing Remus into a fist. Dumbledore knew the song had hit them the hardest. After all, even though they didn't know it, there was still a strong connection between them and the flute's emotions, since the flutist was someone they deeply cared about. This sort of connection would be there no matter what.  
  
Finally everyone had gotten some semblance of control over themselves. Remus and Sirius had also sat back in their chairs. Dumbledore cleared his throat. "That was a very good potion, and I thank you, Severus. If we hadn't taken it, all we would have heard was a song that left us feeling inexplicably saddened. As it is... Professor Sinistra, what did you feel?"  
  
The teacher pondered the question. "When the flute music first started, I felt like it swept me up in a rushing tidal wave of liquid fire. It was so intense, like a burning inferno and freezing ice, yet warm like a campfire flame and soothingly cool like clear water... the piano music was just as powerful, but had the strength of thousand year old trees and the suppleness of youthful grass, and also the life-giving calm of a gentle breeze with the force of a whirlwind. The entire song was so haunting, so sad, full of suppressed emotions that found an outlet... negative emotions, mostly, but also a bit of hope. It was like being in heaven, listening to a choir sing with not words, but everything that they were made of, their being, their soul..." She sighed, a dreamy smile on her face. "There are no words to describe it."  
  
Dumbledore smiled gently at the emotional Astronomy professor. "Yes, that was it exactly. Their magic, triggered by a particularly stressful period of emotional breakdown, found an outlet through music. Thus the music will have the feel of their magic and their souls. Can you guess who the players were, and what their powers are?"  
  
Remus lifted his head and said hollowly, "Harry. Fire and Water."  
  
Sirius twisted around to look at him. "Harry? How can it be? How did he end up in this state?" The expression on his face was one of anguish and disbelief.  
  
Remus shook his head. "I don't know. I tried to talk to him, but he wouldn't listen. He's changed, Sirius. A lot. He's like a ghost of his former self... no, not even a ghost. The Harry we know is just... just gone. If you saw him..." He cradled his head in his hands, not even wanting to finish his sentence. But Sirius got the idea, though.  
  
"F*ck it!" Sirius cursed, glaring at Dumbledore. "Not meaning any disrespect, sir, but why the bloody hell didn't you tell me sooner? That boy's my godson!"  
  
"If I told you, what would you have done? Rushed straight back to Hogwarts and endanger all the people involved in the missions you had to do and delay all the important tasks that were assigned to you?" Dumbledore replied calmly, with a hint of warning in his voice. "Think, Sirius!"  
  
Gritting his teeth, the Animagus gripped the arms of his chair so tightly that his knuckles turned white and listened as Dumbledore continued speaking. "And the other?"  
  
Snape frowned. "Draco Malfoy. Earth and Air."  
  
"Malfoy?!" Sirius exploded again. "No way!"  
  
"Sirius!" the Headmaster reprimanded sharply. "Mr. Malfoy is not the person people always seem to mistake him for. He is not his father. Although he has not told me anything, I have ways to find out. Do not judge people like that."  
  
"He's right. Draco is nothing like the dog that Lucius is. He's just misunderstood. And these days, he's getting quieter, like Potter." Everyone glanced at Snape, surprised. He looked back at them, serious for once. "I do care for my charges in Slytherin house, especially Draco, unlike what you all think. He trusts me implicitly, and knows I am not totally faithful to Voldemort, but he has guarded that secret with his life. I trust him, and trust is hard to come by in... my line of work. However, he has not done so recently. Since the start of this year, in fact."  
  
Dumbledore nodded serenely at him. "Yes, Severus has been most helpful in matter pertaining to Mr. Malfoy. And now, we shall move on to the matter I have called you here for." A quick charm that replicated the paper on Dumbledore's desk ensured that everyone had a copy of the prophecy to refer to.  
  
"We shall now go through it, and I shall translate it as best as I can."  
  
Light and Dark,  
  
Bonded of fate.  
  
Two lost halves,  
  
Born of hate.  
  
"Light and Dark should refer to the two people - one on the Light side, which would be Harry, and the other on the Dark, which would be Draco. However, it might also mean the sides that they *seem* to represent. For Draco Malfoy is not totally on the Dark side. In fact, he might be more Light than Dark - "  
  
"Why are you all protecting Malfoy?" Sirius asked, dislike written all over his face. "You know the hell Harry went through because of that arrogant prat?"  
  
"Ah, but Draco is not all he seems, and we cannot judge his actions at face value, as I have already said. Now, Sirius, do calm down. Where was I? Oh, yes. Bonded of fate - that is obvious. Their fate is linked, and has been even before tonight.  
  
"Two lost halves, born of hate. It implies that they were meant to be together as one, but because of the hatred that exists in our world, they were forced apart. Or it could mean that they are lost because they hate each other, and cannot be together because of their fixed mindsets, and that puts them in the state they are now."  
  
"Is there any difference between the two explanations? Because I don't see it," a puzzled Charlie Weasley spoke up.  
  
"Yes, a small difference. But the idea of it is that unwelcome hatred has forced apart a whole, and now the two halves of that whole are lost."  
  
Charlie frowned, but Dumbledore had already carried on speaking.  
  
Together as one,  
  
Rarest of sky.  
  
Hidden in dark,  
  
Tears of why.  
  
"Together as one, rarest of sky. This is simple; they will be together again when the astronomic arrangement of the sky is the rarest.  
  
"Hidden in dark, tears of why. In the dark of the night, they let down the walls they've built in the day, let out all the frustration. Or it could be just talking about their state of feelings; they hide their emotions inside themselves, and while on the outside they try to carry on as normal, inside they are broken, crying."  
  
World's fate,  
  
They hold;  
  
Elementals two,  
  
They be.  
  
Thus begins  
  
The song  
  
Of Music  
  
Of Destiny.  
  
"They hold the fate of the world in their hands, and they are Double Elementals - or else it could mean they are both Elementals, double or not. And on this night, these two people, will meet because of music... Music of Destiny, for it truly is music that will define our destiny - yours, mine, and everyone, everything in this world."  
  
Silence.  
  
"Wow."  
  
"Very articulate, Black."  
  
"Shut your trap, Snape."  
  
"Headmaster, there were two meanings to some of the verses. Maybe it doesn't have to have only one meaning. Maybe both are true?" suggested Arabella.  
  
"Yes, that is possible... I never thought of that," mused the Headmaster. "That is very possible indeed..."  
  
"They hate each other." That was Remus, his quiet voice making everyone settle down and listen. "They've hated each other for six years, how are they going to overcome that?"  
  
"Ah, but my guess is that they don't know who the other is," said Dumbledore wisely. "It is rare for them to find someone who can truly understand them, and it is a human instinct to try and protect what is precious to them. They will not ask for the other's identity, for there is a chance it might ruin what they have just found. And hopefully, as time passes, they will learn to accept each other, learn that the other is not as bad as he may seem. But we don't have that much time to spare... so I have no choice but to hurry it up."  
  
He turned to the professors. "At the start of this year, I have arranged for every class to have two houses in it, and for the Slytherins and Gryffindors to have Defense Against the Dark Arts, Potions, Transfiguration, Astronomy and Care of Magical Creatures together. The story will be that it is to improve inter-house relationships, but in truth, it is to promote a few particular relationships. I want you to pair Draco Malfoy, Blaise Zabini, and Pansy Parkinson with Harry Potter, Ronald Weasley and Hermione Granger, so that they will have to partner each person in the other house at least once."  
  
"What? Headmaster, are you trying to instigate war in our classes? They'll kill each other in five minutes flat!" Snape protested heatedly.  
  
"But inter-house fights have practically disappeared nowadays, have they not?" Dumbledore replied mildly.  
  
"Yes, they have, and I like it that way! Pair them together and you'll have bloodshed!"  
  
"We shall just have to see. Now, I also want you to give a part of your research to them as a project. Any research you have problems with, assign it to these groups. Ms. Granger, Mr. Malfoy, and Mr. Potter are the top three students in the school, and I believe they will do the job remarkably well. This way your load will be lightened. I suggest you inform the Gryffindors of the importance of their research, as an incentive. After all, it's for the protection of Hogwarts. I am not sure if we can trust the Slytherins as much yet, I am sorry to say, Severus, but they have not given me enough reason to do so. But I hope time will change that, with the help of the Gryffindors."  
  
Snape grumbled something and shot a glare at Sirius, who was smirking slightly.  
  
"And also, Professor Sinistra, you are the best at using stray magic to enhance spells. When these two boys play their music, their power runs wild around the school, for they have not learned to control and direct it yet. So I hope you can use all this untamed magic to strengthen the defense spells around Hogwarts, and maybe set up new spells."  
  
"No problem, Headmaster."  
  
"Thank you. And everyone here, I hope you will keep this a secret. Do not let it leak outside this room. Tell no one of the prophecy, not even the boys. And if either of the boys seeks your guidance, encourage them. Do not let your prejudice against any one of them affect their friendship. They need acceptance, not reject. Let them think you have a positive view of their relationship, no matter what this relationship will evolve into."  
  
McGonagall pursed her lips. "You make it sound like they're going to have romantic ties, Headmaster."  
  
Dumbledore chuckled. "Who knows, Minerva, who knows?"  
  
The deputy Headmistress gaped, losing her composure for once. "What?" She wasn't the only one.  
  
But Dumbledore was seemingly oblivious to the consternation he had caused. He waved a hand and beamed. "Tonight has been a revelation for us all, and I expect you will be tired by now. Don't worry about the potion, its effects will wear off by tomorrow. Off to bed, now!"  
  
Just as everyone was rising to their feet, he added softly, "And make sure to watch out for sunrise, if possible. The after-effects of the constellations will leave its mark on the dawn sky, and I'm sure the sight will be most worthwhile."  
  
One by one, the spells were lifted, and everybody left, discussing matters in hot whispers, except Sirius and Remus. "Headmaster, I'd like to request to stay until tomorrow morning. I want to see Harry, see if I can talk to him, and make him talk to me. I'll go immediately after, I swear! Just let me see him before I go out on yet another mission," Sirius pleaded earnestly, real worry in his eyes.  
  
"Of course, Sirius. But not later than nine, or there will be problems," Dumbledore cautioned.  
  
"Thank you, Headmaster." Sirius left, talking in low tones with Remus.  
  
Finally, the room was empty once again. Fawkes, settled on his perch, ruffled his wings sleepily, then tucked his head under them and slept. Dumbledore sat there, hands folded in front of him, lost deep in thought. His mind was full of worries, and one stood out prominently.  
  
There was one part of the prophecy that he did not mention to the others - partly because he did not fully understand it, and partly because of the parts he *did* understand. He didn't want to spoil the more hopeful parts of the prophecy for those people just now - they had been through so much, and now there was hope, how could he bear to dash it? Better to let one person worry than ten more.  
  
Basking in the barely audible melody, the great wizard, feeling so very, very tired, closed his eyes; and the voice that never went away, the voice that lurked deep in his worn heart, the voice that taunted him with its mocking whispers and laughter, the voice that laughed gleefully at the dark fate that was so clearly written in those four lines... he closed his eyes, and listened to that voice whisper the verse over and over again, even as the gentle shine of dawn broke through the night sky.  
  
A shadowed ghost from the past awakens,  
  
Haunted, will the Music be forsaken?  
  
The guardians might guard against the dark,  
  
But who will guard the guardians?  
  
+++++  
  
Was that boring? Yes, that was boring. Very boring. GAAAH. But stay with me, ok? I swear it gets better in the next chap, cuz its lesson time! And a big surprise that makes my two fave boys seem *really* ooc, but hey, I don't control my writing - it controls me.  
  
And the action will pick up. Right now it's going VERY slowly, but I just need to get the explanations and emotions out of the way first. After that... heheh... *rubs hands together in glee*  
  
Hope you understood the translations of the prophecy. I considered leaving those out, to let you puzzle over the prophecy yourself and make it all less boring, but then I decided what the heck. Except the last one. I'm very proud of the last one.  
  
Review please! ^__^  
  
Signing off, :::Darke Angel:::Who will guard the guardians?::: 


	4. Falling Barriers

Summary: HP/DM SLASH! Set in 5th year & beyond, continuing from the 4th book. Harry & Draco are suffering from reality & withdraw from the Light into the Dark. As the world readies for war, Harry finds out startling secrets about his past, prophecies involving him & Draco. He pushes away the people he loves, hurting both himself and them. And Draco's torn between the Light and the Dark, with pressing reasons on each side to consider. They find each other through the music they find solace in, away from prying eyes, while War begins its deadly march. And the world meets someone it never imagined still existed.  
  
Disclaimer: me no own Harry Potter or anything else the goddess J.K. Rowling has created. Though I wish I own Draco Malfoy.  
  
Pairings: HP/DM, SB/RL, RW/HG  
  
The pairings aren't confirmed yet except ones above, so if you want any other pairing in particular, feel free to ask!  
  
And now, my long author's notes. Thanks to koureshin/atsu tenshi, whatever name you're using now, for reviewing for all my chapters! Thanks so much... yeah, I know I should have more action, but my writing style is like this - longwinded and boring. And I just *cannot* do action scenes. Thought I should warn you first...  
  
Thanks to S.Wing, shuhui (not all yaoi is bad...), ern, yanmin, and trix! and ame for helping me beta. Hope you don't think this chap is too bad... I'm trying, I really am!  
  
Please review! Hope you all enjoy this!  
  
Chapter 4  
  
Part 1  
  
Hovering on his Firebolt, halfway to the Gryffindor boy's dormitory window from the roof, Harry drank in the unusual sight before him. He had been on his way back to the dorm when the pale glimmer of the rising sun had caught his eye. Green eyes wide, he sat still on the broomstick, hardly daring to breathe. With an artistic flair he never knew Dawn had, the sky had been painted a luscious tints of rose and swirling pearl and there were bursts of clouds patching it here and there.  
  
But the most startling, most wondrous, most unique sight of all was the silver that coated everything, a silver that seemed to shimmer and sigh and tease the fingers of sun that grasped the horizon; mixed with strong, steady, gleaming gold that was the background to the silver's foreground, a gold that complemented the mistily soft silver with its bright, cheerful blaze that shone even from under all the other shifting colours.  
  
After what seemed like an eternity (which was in reality only about a minute), the gold gave one last proud burst of colour before fading, followed a little while later by the slow fading of the silver. Harry turned and resumed his flying, still awed by what he had witnessed. It was not everyday that one saw a gold and silver dawn, and it wasn't until much later that he realized what it truly symbolized.  
  
Right now he was thinking of the night he had spent, a ghost of a smile touching his lips. He felt better than he had for a long time, despite lack of sleep. The entire time, all the way till dawn, he had spent talking about his burdens and problems with the Friend. Avoiding anything that would give their identities away, just unloading proverbial weights off their shoulders. It felt so relaxing to be able to just talk... but then, come to think of it, they weren't talking, were they? Then how could -  
  
"YAAAAH!" Harry yelped as he was knocked off his broom by something that barreled into him the moment he flew into the dorm. Even though he was dazed and trying to recover his breath, he fumbled for his wand, blinded and choking. Thoughts speeded through his mind like a drunken driver on the highway - did Voldemort somehow managed to set up a trap for him? How did he get any of his minions in here? And - oh god, his friends! They should have been pulling back their covers by now, asking him what the problem was, but there was no movement, no sound except Sirius's panicked voice and his own loud breathing and the painful thudding of his heart-  
  
Wait a sec. What?  
  
"... to scare you, I'm really sorry, Harry please listen, it's just me, or rather Padfoot, I really didn't mean to scare you like that, I just wanted to surprise you, I didn't think... hey, are you even listening?!"  
  
Waving his hand in the direction where he guessed his godfather was, Harry managed to convey the point that he was listening and yes, he understood, thank you very much, and would Sirius please just let him find his goddamn glasses because he couldn't see a thing. Harry felt immensely pleased he had managed to get his point across in just a few waves of his hand when he felt Sirius step back and fall silent, then as an afterthought, mutter "Accio," and place the missing spectacles into his godson's feebly groping hand.  
  
Jamming his glasses thankfully back onto his face, Harry blinked up at his sheepish looking godfather from his sprawled position on the floor. Scrambling up, he threw himself into the welcoming, open arms, and hugged tightly as he felt the much taller man embrace him back. Then, suddenly catching himself, Harry forced his way out of that safe, warm hold, his wall up again in an instant. Stupid, stupid, stupid! He had been out of his mind with joy and relief seeing that Sirius was safe, so much that he had forgotten that Sirius would never be safe as long as he was with Harry.  
  
But it was good to see Sirius healthy and well, Harry admitted in his mind, but he didn't allow himself to care any more than that. But the look of hurt on Sirius's face cracked his wall a little, so he hastily scrambled for something else to talk about, and found it.  
  
"Sirius? What did you do to them? I'd have thought they and everyone else in Gryffindor Tower would have rushed here by now," Harry indicated the four-poster beds, all with curtains drawn, with a sweep of his hand.  
  
Sirius blinked. "Oh. That. I just cast a simple sound barrier on each bed, then around this whole room. The boys here and everyone else out there can't hear anything that happens in here. Just in case we make noise, see," he explained sheepishly.  
  
"I see. Well, now that you've seen me, you can go," Harry said curtly, guessing correctly the reason his godfather had come. He had had enough of being talked at. What did they know, the lot of them? Sure, they knew about the guilt he felt, but that barely skimmed the surface. Now, his Friend was a different matter, he understood entirely what Harry felt...  
  
He realized Sirius was speaking and forced himself to listen. "...And I've even brought you breakfast, look. I was thinking maybe we could catch up with each other over food? I'm hungry, and I bet you are too. Oh, and have you seen my collar? Cool, isn't it? You should have seen the look on Remus's face..."  
  
Looking at the cheery grin on Sirius's face and the exuberant way he rambled on, Harry could see through his act to the worry and deep concern underneath. He felt another pang in his heart for worrying the closest thing he had ever had for a father, even more than kind Professor Lupin, but it was for the best. Steeling himself, he cut Sirius off mid-ramble.  
  
"Look, Sirius. I know you mean well. But I don't need help. Leave me alone." He didn't add the part he always felt like saying out loud: I'll do my part in the world and defeat evil, yadda yadda, and then I'll go off and die a pathetic miserable hero's death after seeing everyone who cares about me die.  
  
It hurt. It hurt a lot, seeing Sirius's composure finally broken, seeing him cringe and deflate, seeing the pain and hurt finally surfacing, a hurt so poignant that it shook Harry for a moment. This was Sirius, his godfather, his dad's best friend - but no. Even his parents died because of him. He wasn't going to let his determination waver just because of some hurt feelings. He would be grateful to be alive, in the end, grateful that Harry did what he did.  
  
He pushed past the pleading hand held out to him; putting his Firebolt, flute and wand back where they belonged, grabbing the stuff he needed - clothes, toiletries, etc. - from his drawers, and all the while ignoring Sirius, he tried to enter the bathroom. But when Sirius blocked him, determined to solve the problem once and for all, he finally snapped. His wall was breaking, he had to be final, and there was no other way. Turning his gaunt face to Sirius, a face that now resembled how the other man used to look as a convict, with hollow eyes and prominent bones, he said in a low, cold tone, "Leave me the hell alone. I've had enough of all you people. Just. Shove. Off."  
  
Harry forced his way past a stunned Sirius, frozen to the spot like stone, and shut himself in the bathroom, the click of the lock a final, decisive sound. He didn't see the way Sirius clenched his fists and slowly drop to the ground, eyes tightly shut, pain in every line in his face. He didn't hear the anguish in his voice as Sirius choked, "James, Lily... I'm sorry. I'm so, so, sorry, I've failed you, I wasn't there to look out for Harry, and now... Harry... I've failed you." He didn't hear the way, after the spells had been taken off the room, Sirius transformed into Padfoot and whimpered sadly, sorrowful black eyes gazing at the bathroom door. He didn't feel the air of self-loathing and despair that hung around the animal as it padded quietly out of the dorm.  
  
If he had witnessed it all, Harry's wall would have no choice but to fall under that sort of attack. As it was, he was drowning himself underneath the shower, letting the jets of water punish his aching body, hating himself for doing that to someone who loved him so deeply, like the father he had never known. But as always, he justified it with the knowledge that Sirius would be safe, like everyone else.  
  
He stayed there for half an hour, washing up, before stepping back out into the dorm. Pocketing his wand, he dried his hair with a quick spell, and picked up his schoolbooks for the day. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the tray of food that Sirius had left. Warm, thick, creamy mushroom soup, still-crisp waffles with butter and honey just the way Harry liked it, some cold water to wash it down, and apple slices. Harry stared at it. There were even funny faces floating around the tray, some spell he had dug up no doubt... Sirius had put quite some effort into it. Harry owed him one, he knew he had hurt him deeply...  
  
For the first time in two years, Harry sat down (on the floor, but that doesn't matter) and had a proper breakfast. He hesitantly lifted the spoon and drank some of the rich soup, then fell on the meal. It took him only three minutes to finish the generous helpings; he hadn't eaten for so long. *Only ONCE shall I do this, and it's only because Sirius went to all this trouble for me,* Harry warned himself. *No more. I mustn't let myself get used to this, because I don't deserve it. And I'll eat less later, to make up for this.*  
  
But all that aside, he was feeling better this morning. Perhaps it was because of the meal; perhaps it was because of the Friend. It was a small detail, hardly noticeable, but it was still there, and it was a start.  
  
+++++  
  
Remus stroked Padfoot's thick silky coat, comforting without words. The big dog had just padded into the room and one look at him told Remus all he needed to know. He had knelt on the floor, arms open in welcome, and Padfoot had huddled to him, head on his lap, shuddering. Remus understood what he felt, because he had felt the same way too, many times.  
  
Finally the dog raised his head and gave a little huffing sigh. He nuzzled Remus, who said softly, "Don't blame yourself, Sirius. If somebody's to blame, it's me. I've been here since the start of this year and I couldn't do anything. So don't blame yourself. I know you."  
  
Padfoot looked at Remus silently, and the werewolf sighed. "I'm seri - I mean, I mean it." The dog dipped its head with a small whuffing sound, like dog laughter. "You have to go soon, you know. Don't let this affect your work. I promise, I'll try my best to help him. You know that."  
  
Padfoot looked at Remus with total, complete, giving trust in his eyes. He nudged the slim man with his nose, then got to his feet. Wagging his tail lightly, he gave Remus a small lick before padding to the door. The werewolf got up as well and opened the door for him. "I'll send you out, so in case the students ask, I'll say you're a stray that I'm returning to the wild."  
  
The dog nodded, a curious action on an animal, and side by side, the two Marauders made their way down the Hogwarts corridor.  
  
+++++  
  
Harry left the tray outside the big painting that was the entrance to the Hogwarts kitchen, not wanting to go inside and face the squeals of the house-elves. Now he had a full hour to kill before lessons. Might as well go to the library and return the spell-book he had borrowed - he had already learnt all the spells in there, and he should borrow new material to study. He wanted to learn as many as he could, so that he wouldn't be useless when fighting Voldemort, since that was the only thing he could do - the only thing left for him to do. That was also why he had been illegally borrowing books from the restricted section, using some handy silencing spells and his ever-faithful Cloak.  
  
Nodding to Madam Pince, who curtly nodded back to the student that she had seen countless of times these last two years, Harry placed his book on the desk with a murmured 'thank you' and headed toward the bookshelves. He usually went back to sleep for an hour or two, but his meeting with Sirius had gotten him wound up and too troubled to sleep. This happened sometimes, and when it was a quarter to nine, Ron and Hermione showed up at the library, knowing where to look for him from experience.  
  
And sure enough, Harry was sitting at a remote, almost hidden corner of the library, looking through a few books. He didn't look up when they stood beside him, awkwardly shuffling their feet. It was Hermione who spoke quietly, so as to not incur the Wrath of the Deadly Librarian. "Hey, Harry, it's a quarter to nine, and we didn't see you in the Hall, so we were thinking maybe you want some breakfast?"  
  
"Eaten." Harry didn't elaborate, and he ignored the disbelieving looks sent in his direction. He didn't add 'go away', since the two Gryffindors could be very deaf and very stubborn when they wanted to.  
  
"Ah... okay. Eaten. As in... ate. Food." Ron paused at Harry's cold nod and exchanged a This-Is-A-Good-Sign-Right-? look with Hermione. They shrugged at each other and turned back to Harry, who picked up two books and pushed past them to walk to the counter. Trailing after him, the two watched as he borrowed the books and then stuffed them in his bag. Going back to the table he had used, Harry set about putting the other books back, helped by Hermione (who was familiar with the library herself; Ron just stood and watched). Her efforts were rewarded with only a muttered, "Thanks. But I don't need help."  
  
And so, the trio went off to the first class of the day, which was double Potions with the Slytherins ("I hate Tuesdays." "Yes, Ron." "I really, really hate Tuesdays." "Shut up, Ron." "Did I mention I hated Tuesdays?" "I'll hex you, Ron, I really will."). They seemed to have almost all what they termed the 'important' classes with the Slytherins - DADA, Potions, and Transfiguration, even CoMC, and for Hermione and Harry who had just joined last year after the O.W.L.s, Astronomy, but thankfully not Ancient Runes. The two walked beside and slightly behind the green-eyed boy, who for all his pale gauntness had an air of command around him that made people instinctively move out of his way as he walked down corridors.  
  
Arriving in the cold dungeons five minutes early, they found seats at the back of the classroom and began setting up everything they needed. Everyone else was already there, quietly doing the same. Suddenly the door burst open and in strode Professor Snape, silencing even the quietest of whispers with the particularly pissed look on his face. A Slytherin nearest to the door jumped up and shut it before returning quickly to his seat.  
  
Snape glared around at the class. *What's got into him?* Ron wondered, eyeing the Potions master. *He looks like he's in an even worse temper than ever.*  
  
He soon found out.  
  
"In an effort to - to *promote* inter-house so-called friendships," snarled the Professor, "the Headmaster has decided on a plan, that in my class *will not* induce any more animosity than there already is or there will be hell to pay." He glared at the class again, noting the get-to-the-point- already looks on the student's faces. Fine.  
  
"In every single lesson from now on, and I don't mean just Potions, you will be paired with a student from the other house." Five, four, three, two -  
  
"WHAAAAAT?!" Half the class shot to their feet, yelling outrage, while the other half either froze in their seats, too shocked to move, or slumped to the floor. Snape noted that both Potter and that Granger girl, together with Draco, Pansy and Blaise, were part of the 'frozen' group, while predictably, Weasley was on his feet, red in the face and pointing accusingly in the direction of the Slytherins while yelling something that was lost in the overall noise. Longbottom was on the floor, a look of despair on his face, not surprisingly. He pitied the Slytherin who had to work with him. But for now...  
  
"SILENCE!" he roared, and got it immediately. Everyone froze and then dropped back into - or pulled themselves back onto, as in some cases - their chairs. "This is disgraceful. Ten points off Gryffindor and ten points each off Weasley and Finnigan for that vulgar gesture with their hands. Five points off Slytherin." That last sentence was forced out of his mouth, but it had to be done.  
  
"Now, I will read out the pairs and I want you all to be seated with each other in five minutes. The boys move, the girls stay put." He pulled out a roll of parchment and began rattling off names to groans and muttered curses as people hurriedly began packing their stuff. "Brown and Crabbe, Patil and Rhimes, Jordan and Goyle, Granger and Malfoy, Finnigan and Bulstrode, Longbottom and Davis, Weasley and Parkinson, Potter and Zabini."  
  
Disgusted glances were exchanged as everyone scrambled to settle down before the five minutes were up. Harry unwillingly dumped his belongings next to Zabini's, seeing that the other boy made no move to get up and walk over. He supposed that he should be glad he wasn't working with a girl, and that it wasn't Malfoy he had to pair. Zabini he could handle.  
  
Snape set them to making a potion that was complicated enough to need two people doing it at the same time. A few curt sentences to each other had Harry chopping up wings into exactly equal slices and Zabini mixing and measuring other ingredients after they had prepared the basic potion. Their tone when speaking to each other was polite and distant, and they finished the potion perfectly without any incident. Which was more than they could say for the others, besides Hermione and Malfoy, who had also gotten their potion perfect.  
  
When the lesson ended, Tracey Davis had her head in her hands while her partner Neville looked close to tears due to their bright yellow potion, which was supposed to be dark blue. At least the cauldron was still whole, for Davis was almost as good as Malfoy. Snape deducted points from Neville for not helping much. Crabbe and Goyle, not much smarter than they looked, had Lavender and Kassia Jordan frustrated, and five points off Slytherin and twenty off Gryffindor. And Seamus, paired with Millicent Bulstrode who was as poor at Potions as he was, had ended up with sticky purple goo splattered all over them and twenty points off Gryffindor for exploding their cauldron. They had to stay back and skip lunch to clean the dungeon.  
  
And as for Ron...  
  
"That girl is the most annoying thing I have ever met! She squeals and whines and made me do all the work while she stirred and the worst thing of all is that I get blamed for not doing the ingredients properly and ruining *her* potion! I wonder how the Slytherins can stand her! She's so totally fake, and she gushes over Malfoy non-stop, and when she's not doing that she's threatening every single person who even looks at him cross-eyed! Please don't tell me these pairings are permanent, I'll die!" Ron fumed, gesturing wildly to emphasize his point, almost poking Hermione's eye out. "I need a proper lunch and LOTS of cold juice."  
  
And he got just that, gulping down glass after glass of juice ("This tastes good, anyone know what it is? The house-elves have been experimenting lately, I've noticed.") and chomping on his food. Harry ate even less than usual, then pushed his plate away and took out a library book. Hermione noticed, and said pleadingly, "Harry, please eat more." He ignored her, and she sighed and stabbed miserably at her own plate. Ginny, next to her, squeezed her hand comfortingly, while Ron grimaced and cast an anxious glance at Harry. Seamus tried to lighten up the mood by telling a very dirty joke, which he put Harry's name in, and everyone either laughed heartily (a little forced, though) or exclaimed "Seamus!" in a scandalized tone.  
  
Harry looked up at Seamus. "Shut up, Seamus. Don't involve me in that kind of shit joke. If you're trying to cheer me up, it's failing miserably."  
  
That was the longest speech the Gryffindors had ever heard from Harry for a long time, and Seamus took it as a good sign, regardless of the less-than- pleasant choice of words. Grinning at Harry, he cracked, "Hey, I was just sharing a joke with everyone here. I'm not attempting the impossible and getting killed in the process, eh, Harry?"  
  
Harry tried to suppress his emotions, but his lips twitched in a ghost of a smile.  
  
And that silenced the entire Gryffindor table, who all stared at him with mouths hanging open, unable to believe their eyes.  
  
+++++  
  
continued... 


	5. Falling Barriers cont'd

Summary: HP/DM SLASH! Set in 5th year & beyond, continuing from the 4th book. Harry & Draco are suffering from reality & withdraw from the Light into the Dark. As the world readies for war, Harry finds out startling secrets about his past, prophecies involving him & Draco. He pushes away the people he loves, hurting both himself and them. And Draco's torn between the Light and the Dark, with pressing reasons on each side to consider. They find each other through the music they find solace in, away from prying eyes, while War begins its deadly march. And the world meets someone it never imagined still existed.  
  
Disclaimer: me no own Harry Potter or anything else the goddess J.K. Rowling has created. Though I wish I own Draco Malfoy.  
  
Pairings: HP/DM, SB/RL, RW/HG  
  
The pairings aren't confirmed yet except ones above, so if you want any other pairing in particular, feel free to ask!  
  
Chapter Four Part 2  
  
"I wonder why they're all staring at Potter?" Blaise raised an eyebrow, squinting at the Gryffindor table. "And they've gone silent, too."  
  
"I don't really care, Blaise," Pansy mumbled through a mouthful of food. Swallowing, she continued, "And speaking of Potter, how was working with him like?"  
  
"Well, it was okay, surprisingly. He's smart, knows what he's doing, and does his fair share of work. I don't have to tell him anything, and the level of conversation was almost non-existent." He grinned. "Just the way I like it. How 'bout you, Draco? I see you were the only other pair that managed to finish their potion."  
  
"Draco?" Pansy waved a hand in front of his face. "Hello?"  
  
"What?" Draco snapped out of his daze and blinked at Pansy.  
  
"You're thinking of something important, I know you. Your eyes went all sort of silver and misty and your face was all peaceful and everything. What is it?"  
  
"Silver... misty... peace..." Draco couldn't help it, he smiled. A smile that was sweetly pure and happy and unrestrained, making his normally holier-than-thou expression soften into something beautiful. Then he realized what he was doing, and stopped abruptly. But too late. Everyone in Slytherin was gaping at their supposedly 'Ice' Prince, and quite a few of them had lovesick looks on their faces.  
  
Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw, puzzled at the sudden silence, looked around them and blinked at all the open mouths. Then wincing in pain, they simultaneously clapped their hands over their ears as a roar of noise shook the Great Hall, creating a chaos of cheering and clapping and yelling and jumping up and down.  
  
At the Slytherin table, Pansy was fending off girls and even some guys fawning over Draco, shrilling insisting he was her boyfriend and would you crazy hormonal apes get off him. Blaise was glaring at them all, and together with Crabbe and Goyle were trying to shove the mass of people all declaring undying love for Draco.  
  
At the Gryffindor table, Seamus was drowning in baked beans and mashed potatoes as everyone tried to pat him on the back or give him a friendly punch. And Harry was surrounded by well-wishers all blabbering about how glad they were that he had finally come to his senses and how they knew that the brave Boy-Who-Lived would pull through, while Hermione and Ron were trying to shoo them away and having no luck.  
  
Just as suddenly as it all started, it ended with a loud roar of "SHUT UP AND GET LOST!" from two voices at the opposite ends of the hall. The voices harmonized perfectly, two tenors that rang in the sudden silence. Their owners locked eyes. Green and silver conveyed identical frustrated anger. Harry and Draco had shoved themselves from their seats, finally unable to take it anymore, causing the people around them to shrink away and stare.  
  
"What is the meaning of - " Professor McGonagall began from her seat at the teachers' table, but then flinched almost imperceptibly as furious gazes of green and silver lasers bored into her. Dumbledore rested a hand on her arm, and she sat down in a huff, trying to regain her composure. The entire hall watched in stunned silence as the two boys stormed out, and they could not have made a more contrasting yet complementing picture. Draco's pale skin and carefully slicked back silvery strands, the opposite of Harry's brown tan and messy shock of black hair, somehow seemed to unite in their fury.  
  
Once outside the hall, they strode in the direction of their Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom, still fuming. But thankfully, when they arrived outside the classroom, their tempers had cooled, and they were deeply regretting showing so much emotion in front of the entire school, no less!  
  
Then suddenly, as if they had just remembered who exactly the person next to them was, Harry and Draco sprang apart. They looked warily at each other, hands on their wands. Neither spoke nor moved, just stared each other down.  
  
Finally, as if they had reached an unspoken agreement, they released their wands at the same time, the tension slowly seeping out of their bodies and the air between them. "That was annoying," Draco said conversationally. "Trust my house to make a big fuss over nothing."  
  
"Oh, my house isn't any better," Harry replied airily. "They like big scenes. Overly dramatic."  
  
"What happened, anyway? It looked like you all were going on a mass murdering spree, with you and Finnigan as the prey."  
  
"Oh, that was nothing, compared to yours. What, did you put love potions in their drink?"  
  
Draco sighed. "Oh, I just did something stupid and they acted accordingly."  
  
Harry shrugged. "Then we're in much the same position."  
  
Draco looked at Harry, eyes narrowed in sudden suspicion. Was this actually a... a *civilized conversation*? Oh, death, doom, disaster, and *damn*! He had to do something, fast. "Frankly, Potter, might I make an observation?" He didn't wait for a reply, just barreled on. "You look like a fright. Thin as a stick, your robes are practically hanging off you. Your skin is pale under that tan, not a nice colour, and your hair is as frightful as ever. Not that I'm insulting you, of course. Just a professional view."  
  
Harry smirked inwardly, keeping his face passive. Back on familiar ground. Malfoy was his enemy, after all most probably a wannabe Death Eater; and he had no qualms about not ignoring him. Though Harry had been relatively tolerant of the git for the past few years, it was an understatement to say he wasn't feeling like himself this year.  
  
Without any pause, Harry shot back, "Then you wouldn't mind my unbiased view then? You're as pale as Dracula and twice as eccentric, honestly, you should get out more. Ever heard of Quidditch? Oh, right, I remember, that disaster on a stick that I've seen around is *you*. And your hair, slicked back like that, you look like some disgusting half-assed pansy boy."  
  
Tension returned in a rush as Draco's eyes narrowed. "My skin colour is lightly tanned, Potter, and I'd thank you to get your eyes checked. And as for hair, my hair is perfectly fine and it looks good, and that's the assessment from someone whose taste is better than yours. Your hair - only vulgar, uncultured swine have that sort of hair. The people whose genes you have must look like ogres."  
  
Harry seethed. He wouldn't allow any insult to his parents. To him, yes, but his father and mother who had died for him - no way was Malfoy getting away with that. His wall, already straining under the weight of the confrontation with Sirius and that scene in the hall just now, finally gave way. Whipping out his wand, he snarled, "Adurotum!"  
  
Draco's eyes widened as a beam of light that was so intense that it burned, shot toward him, but he blocked it with the counter spell "Umbre" which cast a shadow that absorbed the light. He hadn't expected the other boy to be at such an advanced level, though he might have guessed when he saw him use the Dilato spell with such ease, two years ago. But he wasn't any beginner himself. He retaliated with "Fimius Termino!", hissing venom in his voice.  
  
Harry's eyes widened as all the dirt and dust on the ground and in the air condensed to encase him in, immobilizing and trapping him. Malfoy wasn't that simple to defeat, after all. It looked like he'd been doing some studying too. He yelled the counter-curse "Absturgio!" which caused the solidifying dirt to dissolve back into the air and fall to the ground.  
  
The two continued to duel, sending spell after spell, so fast that it blinded everyone looking except the dueling wizards, getting more and more powerful so that they were now using spells that stumped the most mature of adults. Beams of light ricocheted between them, flashing like a laser show gone haywire. Students heading towards their classes stopped and stared at the two dueling boys, but they couldn't look for long because they were blinded by the intensity of the magical light of the spells being used. They soon learnt to move well back, since the corridors were littered with people who had gotten too close and were hit with stray spells.  
  
Professor Lupin pushed his way to the front of the crowd and stared disbelieving at the sight. A Ravenclaw was fast fading from view, screaming, and Remus hurriedly cast a spell to stop her from totally dissolving into the air. A small but powerful whirlwind of glowing air had caught two Slytherins in a funnel, and was on the verge of dumping them out of the window - six floors down to the ground. Remus snapped out a spell that made it vanish, leaving the boys hanging onto the windowsill. Someone was burning in a shaft of light that stabbed through the window, and he quickly doused the flames and stopped that spell.  
  
There were other victims, of course, but those weren't life-threatening, such as the Hufflepuff boy wailing with terror, staring at the two extra heads and one arm growing out of his stomach. It looked weird, but it didn't hurt, and it didn't kill. Remus tried a Stupefy on the boys, knowing that it wouldn't work, and sure enough it didn't. The red light just rebounded, and hit someone behind Remus when he ducked. There was no other choice. He had to do it.  
  
"Quantum in me est, pessum ire, fiat!" he intoned, bracing himself. Pain shattered his entire body, and he fell to his knees, feeling all his energy leave him. Through a red haze of pain, he saw that his incantation had done the trick. All the spells had stopped, and the two boys were staring at their wands in shock. Then Harry saw him keel over.  
  
"Professor Lupin!" he gasped, dashing to the half-dead werewolf. "Shit!" Harry tried a healing spell, but his wand didn't work, like it hadn't ever since the Professor had uttered that strange spell. "Professor - "  
  
"I'm fine," gasped Remus. He slowly sat up. "My body can take it, I've felt worse before." He eyed Harry, who had fallen silent. "Harry, you and Malfoy help me into the classroom. And tell someone to call Madam Pomfrey. Oh, yes, and don't forget the two boys still clinging onto that windowsill over there. Everyone else get back to class."  
  
As an eager third-year Hufflepuff dashed toward the infirmary while others swarmed toward the window, Draco came forward and helped Harry support Remus as he hobbled into the DADA classroom. Behind them came the rest of the class. They silently found their seats as Remus looked at the two boys in front of them gravely.  
  
"Harry Potter, Draco Malfoy." The fact that Remus had used their full names, especially for Harry, showed the gravity of the situation. "I must impress upon both of you the seriousness of what you have done. This is no laughing matter. Both of you could have died, as it is, other innocent people almost did. Did you see the girl that was burning to death? Did you know that we are six stories high right now and that those two boys could have fallen and died? There are many other victims of the spells you used. Frankly, I'm surprised you're still unhurt."  
  
Harry had retreated back into his barricade, and Draco had put on his mask of cold arrogance again; but there was an air of guilt around them. Remus shook his head. He hoped like hell that Dumbledore's plan would work, and soon. He was starting to think Snape had the right of it all along, if Harry and Draco were any example.  
  
"Think about what I said. I shall speak with you after class about this incident and your detentions. And before I forget, fifty points off both Gryffindor and Slytherin. Go back to your seats now." As Harry and Draco sullenly turned to go, and gasps of protest at the point deduction rose all over, Remus saw Hermione's hand shoot up. "Yes, Hermione?"  
  
"Professor Lupin, what was the spell you used? It didn't sound like a spell, it was too long," Hermione asked curiously.  
  
Remus sighed. "It wasn't a spell, it was an incantation, to stop all magic going on at the moment, and render any working wand useless. The intensity of the duel that was going on rejected normal spells like Stupefy, and I had to resort to desperate measures. Incantations like that take a lot out of one's body and magical reserves. It's only because I'm used to this kind of pain, being what I am, that I'm still standing. Others would have been bedridden for at least a day."  
  
A knock interrupted Hermione's next question, and she fell silent as Professor McGonagall appeared in the doorway. The deputy Headmistress had her lips pressed into such a thin line that they almost disappeared. "Remus. I trust you know what I'm here for?" she snapped, voice like the snapping of brittle ice.  
  
"Ten minutes, Minerva, just ten. I'll take them to Dumbledore. We'll talk then. For now, I just want to start my lesson. Please, Minerva." McGonagall, about to protest, saw the weary, bone-tired look on Remus's face and sighed. "Very well." She left and shut the door smartly behind her.  
  
Hermione's hand instantly shot up again, and Remus, feeling like just going to sleep there and then, gestured for her to speak. "How could Harry and Malfoy's duel be so powerful, Professor Lupin?"  
  
"Because of reasons that I find it rather taxing to explain. Please leave it at that, Miss Granger." Hearing Remus call her by her surname rather than her name, Hermione knew it was time to stop, and she quietly folded her hands in her lap. Harry and Draco, who had chosen to sit at opposite ends of the otherwise empty back row, heaved inner sighs of relief.  
  
"As you know, we're promoting inter-house friendships. We had the pairings pre-arranged, but in light of present circumstances, I am going to change them. Now, Goyle, Crabbe, Seamus, Davis, and Parvati will be in one group, while Lavender, Jordan, Neville, Rhimes, and Bulstrode in the second. I originally intended for the remaining six of you to be in one group, but after that display - Harry and Malfoy, you'll be paired. Put that energy to good use." Remus had realized that if they could master those advanced spells, the project he had originally intended to give them would have been a piece of cake.  
  
The two boys merely nodded, inwardly groaning, but they figured they had used up their amount of Public Emotional Displays for the day, and so they had to act extra cold and uncaring for the rest of it, so as to discourage any interaction following their actions.  
  
Lupin gave out instructions for each group. Seamus's group had to research on ways of curbing dangerous dark creatures, and also demonstrate with at least one live subject. He wanted full-length essays on at least ten creatures that they had not covered so far, including their habitats, their weaknesses, their strengths; and the more rare, the better. Neville's group had to research on at least twenty defensive dark curses and their effects, origins, and counter-spells, and find examples of them being used. Hermione's group would research on at least twenty aggressive dark curses, their effects, origins, and counter-spells, plus cures to those curses that actually hit. They had to present it all at the end of term.  
  
Remus then turned to his last pair. The two had moved so that they had only two seats between them, not one row. It was an improvement, he supposed. It would do for now. He pondered for a while. What else could he give them?  
  
Ah, yes, there *was* that, but... was it too hard for them? Even he was stumped... but no matter. It would give them something to do, which hopefully would last for the entire term and maybe even beyond. Remus eyed them critically. "Both of you have been doing research in secret, and practicing spells, haven't you?" They looked back at him silently. "Yes, I thought so. No use giving you those projects since you've already studied them on your own. So I'm going to give you one that you might find very taxing, but you brought it upon yourself."  
  
He hesitated. Could he trust Malfoy? No, he couldn't. But... even if he couldn't trust Malfoy, he could trust Harry to change Malfoy. No matter how withdrawn he was, Harry was still Harry, deep down. He would always do the right thing, and had proved it time and again, which was why the world trusted him to save it. Him and no one else, because saving the world once had matured him far beyond his age... in some aspects. In others, like matters of the heart, he was still a confused child.  
  
"I've been researching ancient texts on dark potions and spells. It's slow going, since everything is coded and impossible to read unless you have the key to the code. There is this one text that I have puzzled over for very long but am still unable to decode." He did not add that the information inside could save many people and help the Light to victory, but if in the wrong hands, would be a deadly power for the Dark. If Malfoy betrayed them.... *Just remember - trust Harry,* Remus told himself.  
  
"You're both learning Ancient Runes, and the knowledge will help you, added to the fact you're both smart and your ways of thinking haven't been set yet, which means you might see something in these texts that I did not. However, this is very important and thus top secret, and so I would like you both to keep anything you find from the rest of your peers, report to me on your progress constantly, and immediately if there is any breakthrough. Do not let anything slip, and tell me anything personally - no letters, no messages, nothing. I trust you boys to keep this secret."  
  
He paused, as a thought occurred to him. "Oh, yes, you won't be researching here - I shall arrange for you to have a private room to use, only accessible to you both, myself and the Headmaster. I'll send you a note, tomorrow, perhaps. The books will be placed there, and may not be removed at any time, so if you need them, you have to stay in the room. Any questions?"  
  
Draco and Harry glared at each other, then turned to look sullenly at their teacher, who was looking tired and had the beginnings of what looked like annoyance on his normally kind face. "No, sir." They felt like they had caused the professor enough trouble for one day. Even though the Slytherins acted cool and disdainful of their DADA professor, they respected him most after Professor Snape, and it showed in the way they behaved when he was around. It didn't have anything to do with the fact he was a werewolf - that was widely known and accepted with ease by the students, though not most of the parents.  
  
"Good. Wait here while I brief the rest of the class, and then we'll visit the Headmaster's office." He walked off to the front of the room, and told the class in his clear, authoritative voice to continue on with their work and when the bell rang, he would come back to let them off. And when he did, he didn't want to see any trace of there having been a fight, or it was detention for every single person - for the entire term. That, more than anything else, told the class how thin Professor Lupin's patience was stretched.  
  
Silently, as the class got down to work, Harry and Draco followed Professor Lupin out with their books clutched tightly in their arms. Withering glances were exchanged every step of the way until they arrived at a stone gargoyle, glaring at them menacingly from its perch.  
  
"Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans," Remus said crisply.  
  
The statue did not move.  
  
"Oh dear, he must have changed the password since the last time I used it," Remus sighed. "Well then. Give it a try, boys. I never was one for too many sweets, except Sugar Quills."  
  
Harry and Draco put aside their grievances for the moment to tackle this daunting task. They yelled out all sorts of names they could think of, from Chocolate Frogs to Pepper Imps to Blood-flavoured Lollipops. But still the gargoyle sat there, seeming to gloat over their frustration.  
  
"Perhaps we should wait for Professor McGonagall or someone else to come by," muttered Remus, glaring balefully at the statue. Dammit, he did *not* need another headache!  
  
Draco looked thoughtfully at the statue. "I wonder... Clown Chews!"  
  
Harry stared at Draco in amazement, forgetting his enmity toward the blond in his surprise. "Do you know Clown Chews were invented by the Weasley twins? *And* they make you look stupid?" He had tried it once, and his nose had swollen and turned a bright red, his hair had fizzed out in all colours imaginable, his skin had sprouted feathers, and his feet had enlarged to a ridiculous size. Since the Slytherin disliked the Weasleys (dislike being a rather bland word), and hated loosing his composure and dignity, Harry couldn't imagine him trying the sweet.  
  
Draco looked at Harry coolly. "Yes, I'm not an idiot. I find it amusing. It makes fools out of my lowly subjects while letting me have a laugh at their expense." He sneered at Harry; not mentioning that, he, Blaise and Pansy, in one of their more silly moments, ate the sweets and tried to compare who looked the stupidest though they could hardly focus for the tears of laughter in their eyes. The memory brought warmth to his heart, though his expression continued to be as icy as ever.  
  
The grating of stone broke the beginning of another confrontation, as the gargoyle hopped to the side the stairs began to spiral their way up. Lupin was already on the moving stone, one eyebrow raised. "Coming?" he asked mildly. "You wouldn't want to keep the professors waiting." Harry suppressed a shudder, as he got on with Draco right behind. Apprehension filled him as they rose higher with every second, nearing what Harry dreaded would be his doom.  
  
+++++  
  
whew... done! The ending here is a bit shaky, but then I couldn't go on or else it would be even *longer*. Just to let you know, I split the fourth chap into two parts, since it was so loooong. Makes it easier to read, anyway.  
  
Well, please review! Tell me if its too long, or too boring, or too long- winded, but no flames. Just 'constructive comments'. 


	6. Tamper Tantrums and Pathetic Passwords

Summary: HP/DM SLASH! Set in 5th year & beyond, continuing from the 4th book. Harry & Draco are suffering from reality & withdraw from the Light into the Dark. As the world readies for war, Harry finds out startling secrets about his past, prophecies involving him & Draco. He pushes away the people he loves, hurting both himself and them. And Draco's torn between the Light and the Dark, with pressing reasons on each side to consider. They find each other through the music they find solace in, away from prying eyes, while War begins its deadly march. And the world meets someone it never imagined still existed.  
  
Disclaimer: me no own Harry Potter or anything else the goddess J.K. Rowling has created. Though I wish I own Draco Malfoy.  
  
Pairings: HP/DM, SB/RL, RW/HG and others  
  
And by the way, the Slytherin password thingy is just something that popped into my head at the most unfortunate time and wormed its way into my story.  
  
I'll just make this short: thanks to EVERONE who reviewed! Oh, and especially S.Wing, thanks!  
  
Oh, yes, and I just want to say I'm very PISSED at BLOODY FREAKING JKR for killing off who she did in OotP. I mean, he's destined to be *****'s mate, how could he just die like that! And Harry's an idiot, I mean, he has that gift from ****** and he could have prevented the whole fiasco from happening if he'd used his brains for once and remembered it! Oh well, at least he's finally got an attitude.  
  
Chapter Five  
  
"And that concludes our little meeting," Albus Dumbledore beamed at the two boys in front of him and at the many Hogwarts teachers standing around the room. They all wore expressions of varying degrees of resigned disapproval on their faces. All except the two students sitting frozen in their seats - they alone wore identical looks of mind numbing, disbelieving shock and the beginnings of indignant outrage.  
  
"You can't be *serious*." Draco said flatly. "This is insane!"  
  
"You both brought it upon yourselves, you know. " That was Remus, a slight smile on his face.  
  
"Yes, but I wouldn't even wish him upon Dudley! This isn't punishment, it has got to be - to be - "  
  
"Child abuse," finished Draco, not waiting for his glaring nemesis to speak. "Honestly, Potter, with smart mouthed Granger as a pet, you'd think you'd be more articulate."  
  
"She's smarter than you will ever be, Malfoy, and I spend my time doing more worthwhile things than memorizing lame insults and comebacks, or preening and talking to myself in the mirror," retorted Harry.  
  
"If my insults and comebacks are so lame, Potter, then why do you always take the bait, get angry and get into trouble? Surely that makes you even worse than I am. And I do NOT preen! Some of us are naturally attractive, unlike walking trash dumps like you."  
  
Harry shot to his feet, Draco a second behind him. "You little - "  
  
"Boys, boys!" Dumbledore cut in. "This will not do. Please sit down, Harry, Draco - "  
  
Draco turned his glare on Dumbledore. "With all due respect, Sir, I do not want to be called by name." *Especially not by such a muggle- pampering fool like you,* he added silently.  
  
Dumbledore's smile did not waver. "Oh, yes, how forgetful of me. I apologise, Mr Malfoy. Now, sit and calm down, before I let you go. No fighting in the school, though it is a rule you both have broken many times, is it not?" he asked with a twinkle in his eye.  
  
The boys, plonking themselves down on their chairs, remained silent, though Harry muttered "Prat" out of the corner of his mouth, which was retaliated by a "Git" from Draco.  
  
"Now, if you're calm, you're free to leave," Dumbledore looked the two boys over, doubting even his own decision at the murderous looks in their eyes. "Or rather, to leave with escorts. Minerva, Severus, please send your respective students back to their dormitories. The rest of you may all go."  
  
Professor Sinistra and Hagrid left, the former not sparing a last glance at her charges and the latter giving Harry a worried and sympathetic look, which Harry didn't see, too busy glaring. Remus Lupin sighed and said to no one in particular, "I'll just nip up and ready the room, it should be done by tomorrow," before leaving.  
  
Professor McGonagall sniffed disdainfully. "Disgraceful conduct, Mr. Potter. A shame. Let's get you back to the Gryffindor tower now, shall we?" Harry rose from his chair and strode out after his teacher. Draco pushed himself regally from his chair and said coolly, "Good day to you, Professor," before following the grouchy Potions master out.  
  
Dumbledore chuckled, watching them go. "Things are going to become much more interesting, Fawkes... yes, much more interesting."  
  
+++++  
  
"Stupid smarmy insolent self-absorbed arrogant wimpy brainless playboy narcissistic egoistic selfish damned BRAT!" seethed Harry as he stormed up to the Gryffindor tower, having left Professor McGonagall a few corridors back. "And damn the teachers and Dumbledore too!" It said a lot for how furious Harry was that he didn't even have to say the password to the Fat Lady - she took one look at his face and swung open with a muffled "eep".  
  
The common room fell silent, as Harry climbed in. it appeared that everyone had been waiting for him; the room was packed full and there were even people sitting on the steps to the dorms. Food and juice had been brought back from the kitchens, most probably courtesy of Kelly, a fourth- year, and Kenny, her fifth-year brother. The Leroy siblings were the protégé of the Weasley twins, and did their best to live up to the high standards set by their idols.  
  
The silence was so thick, Harry could practically feel it pressing him down. It was Hermione who finally broke it, saying tentatively, "Uh, Harry, you look like you need to cool down a little. Here, have a drink - "  
  
"I don't want a bloody drink," hissed Harry. "One outburst doesn't exactly make me a party animal, you know." He started cutting a path though the crowd, who parted like he was Death wielding a scythe. In a way, he was - anyone who didn't get out of his path would die.  
  
Expecting to escape to the dorm safely, Harry was slightly startled to hear Ron shout, "You could be more polite, you know!"  
  
He stopped dead in his tracks and turned around to face Ron, who was red in the face, partly from embarrassment and partly from anger. "Yes, I know, but *you all* aren't worth the trouble - "  
  
There was a satisfyingly squelchy sound that echoed through the entire tower.  
  
And everyone stared disbelievingly at their respected, dignified, composed Head Girl and Gryffindor Prefect, favoured by all the teachers, top in the school, friendly and patient, kind and gentle. Who, right now, wore a look of grim satisfaction with a touch of a devil's smirk, and an air of fed-up determination. And who was cleaning her hands off with a simple cleaning charm. Her *cream-smudged* hands.  
  
"And where did the cream come from?" one might ask.  
  
And the answer, dear readers, is the large, extremely fluffy cream custard pie that was slowly sliding down Harry's face, dripping onto his robes, and generally delighting in making a mess out of the Boy-Who- Lived.  
  
"Right. I've had it with you, Harry. Your wall is crumbling, and you're scared to show it, so you resort to anger," Hermione observed with an air of a professional psychologist. "But see, that anger leads to you insulting everyone who cares about you. I've been doing some thinking, ever since this afternoon, when you threw that tantrum. And after I talked with Professor Lupin in the morning, before we went to look for you." Ignoring Harry's outraged glare at being accused of having a 'temper tantrum' like any five-year-old, she went on, "And my decision is, instead of feeling all this gloom and despair, I'm going to *do* something, like I should have a long time ago. And that means taking a firm stand."  
  
Ron smiled wryly. "Yeah, Herm never was one to stand aside and watch. Thinks she can solve all problems by herself - and if she can't, well, the library surely can. But the point is, maybe we've been too passive. This isn't like us; not like her, not like me. I don't know why we didn't see it sooner." He went to stand beside Hermione, looking calmly at Harry, who had, at some point, cleaned his face off. His clothes were another matter. The Gryffindors all held their breaths, watching this confrontation in suspense - or it might have been because they were trying hard not to laugh at how ridiculous Harry looked.  
  
"So." Harry's voice was deadly quiet. "You're saying you won't put up with my actions any longer."  
  
"Yes." Their gazes were calm, level. They had matured a lot, especially Ron, in these past years. No longer was Ron the hot-tempered violent teen he once was, nor was Hermione the rule-abiding bookworm; their personalities had rubbed off each other, and now Ron thought things through before charging forward (at least most of the time) while Herm was more relaxed, and had learned to enjoy herself. Harry was surprised they hadn't gotten together yet. More than that, he was surprised that they had managed to put up with him for so long - and that he had managed to hold them off for so long. It was getting near impossible, though. Sooner or later, one simple look from any one of them - Herm or Ron, who were like his siblings; or Sirius or Remus, who had become like fathers to him - would be all it took to smash his walls down.  
  
"Good. You're finally acting like yourselves. Babying me, pitying me, fawning over me - you made me sick, all this time. But it doesn't matter what you do, does it. Because you will never get anything out of me. I will never let anyone get that close." He sneered a little; pained by the way his friends flinched from him. Good Lord, he was turning into *Malfoy*! Pushing that horrifying thought aside, he firmed his resolve by continuing, "So try all you like. Though let me warn you, you're doomed to fail from the start."  
  
This time, when he went up to his dorm, nobody stopped him. He locked the door with a multitude of locking spells, then cleaned his robes with a cleaning spell like Hermione had used. Then, grabbing his broom, he mounted up and flew out of the window. Time to vent some of that anger.  
  
Five minutes later, a figure could be seen zooming around the Quidditch pitch, savagely slamming bludgers with the beaters' club. His movements were erratic, but still had a natural grace. The setting sun illuminated his thin figure and wildly blowing hair. He didn't have much strength to wield the club, but with his seeker abilities he never got hit.  
  
Finally, when it was too dark to see properly and especially after he had to do a silly loop in mid-air to avoid a bludger, Harry wrestled the balls back into the crate, thinking back on that move he had had to do just now. If anyone had seen him then, he would have had to hide for eternity to avoid the embarrassment. The thought brought back a memory, of a time long ago when he had enjoyed Quidditch, enjoyed flying with all his heart, not just trying his best to catch the snitch so that he didn't let his house down like he already had in other matters...  
  
~~~ "Training for the ballet, Potter?" yelled Malfoy, as Harry was forced to do a stupid kind of twirl in mid-air to dodge the bludger. ~~~  
  
He had won then, even with that bludger intent on his life, he had still won. At least he wasn't totally useless. He allowed himself a brief smile - that had been fun, humiliating Malfoy like that, back in second year. Malfoy, the one constant in his messed-up life. The seas may turn to blood, the skies may turn to ash, but Malfoy would always be there with that glint in his eye and that bloody smirk.  
  
Harry growled in frustration, remembering the events of the afternoon. He didn't care about the locking spells on his dorm - Hermione would definitely be able to undo them, they weren't *that* advanced. Even so, it would take her some time, but by now she ought to have done it.  
  
No, what had gotten him all riled up was the prospect of having three bloody lessons paired with Malfoy and two paired with his cronies! Having the Slytherins for DADA, Potions, CoMC, Transfiguration, and Astronomy only left Ancient Runes, Herbology, Charms and History of Magic with the relatively safe Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs. It was too much of a coincidence. He shouldn't have dropped Divination, the only 'safe' class with just Gryffindors in it, though he was getting higher marks in his two new classes than he had ever gotten in Divination.  
  
But he hadn't mentioned that to the Headmaster, no, not even when he had announced that Harry and Malfoy would be paired together for three of their lessons (and two more with Malfoy's lapdogs, Zabini and Parkinson - everyone knew that Crabbe and Goyle were just 'bodyguards'), not even when he had told them of their detention for three straight weeks. That was because it had been all he could do to keep a passive face and stare at the Headmaster, and not break down and spill all of his secrets, his worries, his troubles, and his pain.  
  
The kindly old wizard had gazed at him with those piercing blue eyes, silently questioning while reassuring and soothing. Like always, it felt like the Headmaster could see into his mind, but he knew he was just being ridiculous. It didn't lessen the feeling of having his mind cross-examined, though. Harry respected the wizard, and trusted him, but he wished people would just leave him alone.  
  
Especially Malfoy.  
  
It was *his* fault that they had gotten into trouble in the first place. They were having a relatively normal conversation when he had to start insulting Harry. It would have been a crime not to insult him back, and things had gone downhill from there, to say the least. Harry winced as he recalled the pained look on Professor Lupin's face, the terrified victims, and the grueling interrogation the teachers had put he and Malfoy through. Since when did you start researching these spells? Do you know any spells that are even more advanced than the ones you used? Where do you get the information? Has learning and practicing the spells been hard? How hard? How did you keep yourself from being found out? And what the hell were you thinking?  
  
The clincher had been when the old wizard sat back and with an amused twinkle in his eye - an *amused* twinkle! What was so amusing about all this, he wanted to know - and told them he approved fully of Professor Lupin's plan to stick them in the same small bloody prison of a room to do a boring stuffy old *project* together, and that they had to stay in there *every single minute* of whatever free time they had, at least until they had learned not to kill each other or finish the project, whichever came first. Harry rather thought it would be the first option. What was it Dumbledore had said? "You should have had detention for an entire year, not only three weeks, but we're letting you off on the account that to you two, doing all this work together is more effective than detention," were his exact words.  
  
Of course, he was right. Harry would have preferred detention, when at least it would be over soon enough and they could ignore each other for the duration of the detention. But for this, he had to actually *co- operate* with Malfoy, and be *civil*, so as to get any semblance of work done. Judging by this afternoon, it was impossible. Voldemort-ass-kisser that Malfoy was, he would probably try a hundred ways to kill the Gryffindor by the end of the week. Not that Harry would sit back and let him, though.  
  
Through the seething mist of anger that clouded his head, a little voice piped up, "But you know you deserve this, Harry. You know that you deserve a worse punishment than this." And as the freezing wind stabbed like ice shards into his skin, Harry realized that was the plain truth. He had directed his anger at Malfoy, but in truth he was just denying the real source of his fury - himself. He was furious at losing his own self- control, for hurting all those innocent students, for forcing Professor Lupin to endure that kind of pain that he should have never had to endure more than once a month. Even Professor McGonagall had flinched from him, however slightly, and she was the stoniest teacher he knew (Snape couldn't be counted as stony, just plain cranky).  
  
He had been stupid, and thoughtless, and reckless, and downright irresponsible. And after he had sworn to never do such a thing again! Harry set his mouth in a thin, determined line. He would see this through. He would ignore everyone, especially Malfoy. How he would do that, with Herm and Ron both unable to keep their nose out of his business (though he was secretly glad and warmed to know he had such wonderful, loyal friends, and yet he was in this fix precisely because of that) and having to see Malfoy every day, he didn't know. But he would.  
  
It was dark. Time to go back to the dorm, and make off with his 'night kit' - flute, Cloak, yadda yadda. Harry allowed himself a small smile as he thought about last night. He forgot the disastrous day he had had, mind wandering ahead of him to the night that awaited. Would his Friend still be there? It was a bit silly calling the other person his Friend, but then, what was he supposed to call him or her? Pianist? That was a good name, actually, except that 'Pianist' didn't hold much meaning in it, unlike Friend, but then it was because his Friend was a Pianist that they had actually met, so Pianist actually suited his Friend quite well -  
  
Oh, great. Not only he was talking to himself, he was *rambling* to himself. Not a good sign. Enough with this self-dissection, already. Harry turned his broom and headed back to the Tower. Hopefully no one would be there, so he could avoid a scene. Maybe, when this was all over, when he didn't have to worry about his loved ones being targeted, he could apologise. Provided they would even listen to him after all that he had done, though. Or maybe he was destined to be forever alone...  
  
He seriously hoped not.  
  
+++++  
  
"Take it easy, Draco. You know where to find me if you need to talk."  
  
Draco watched as Snape, without waiting for a reply, turned on his heel and strode off, cloak billowing around him. The young Malfoy shook his head, privately amused, thinking, *Always have to make a dramatic exit, eh, Professor?*  
  
He schooled his features back into their expressionless mask and faced the hidden entrance to the Slytherin dungeons. Opening his mouth to speak the password, he shut it with a snap and grimaced. *Maybe the reason why Snape didn't stay around is because he didn't want to hear the password. Lord knows, I don't want to hear it either, let alone speak it aloud.*  
  
He remembered that time in the beginning of his fifth year, when he had called a Slytherin meeting...  
  
~~~~~ "Something has to be done about our dratted password. It's so predictable, so stereotypically Slytherin. Either they're too honourable, which is unlikely considering those Weasel twins, or they're even more stupid than we give them credit for." Draco didn't need to say who 'they' were - the Slytherins gathered in the common room all knew who their unofficial leader was talking about.  
  
"I think it's the latter," someone called out, but the wave of laughter was cut off by Draco's icy glare. "Think it's funny, do you? If someone came in and saw all this - " a wave of his arm included the entire Slytherin dorm " - what do you think would happen to us? To *this*? We have already had a few cases of people guessing the password correctly, but luckily we have managed to chase them off. So far."  
  
The room fell silent. He had a point.  
  
"Our passwords - basilisk, banshee, dementor, kedavra, unforgivables, and so on - are so painfully obvious and *expected*. It's like saying, 'we're evil and predictable, come defeat us now'! *Please*. So, we need to change it. Any good ideas?" Draco surveyed the cluster of fools in front of him and doubted it.  
  
"Since they expect our passwords to be evil, why not make them good?" a sixth year suggested.  
  
"That's still predictable. For example, Granger, for all we insult her, is smart. Your idea is good, but still obvious once you think about it, and that mudblood does nothing but think. And study. Which is also why all of you should buck up in your work. But back to the point."  
  
There was a short, thoughtful silence before a third year piped up, "Why don't we make the passwords stupid?"  
  
Draco gave him a scathing glare. "Stupid? What do you mean, stupid?" The third year was reduced to violent head-shaking and frightened squeaks. But then Draco sat up straighter. "Hmmm... that might work. Stop shaking and shut up, will you? Thank you. As I was saying, 'stupid' might work - we could make our passwords so nonsensical and weird that nobody would think of them."  
  
"Not a bad idea," mused Khaddar, one of the more imposing seventh years. There was a chorus of agreement throughout the room.  
  
"Who will decide the passwords?" wondered Millicent.  
  
"We can rotate. Every week, each year will come up with a suitable weird password. Is that okay?" Blaise asked.  
  
"Fine. First years, get to work, and set the new password by this evening," Draco ordered. "This meeting is over, shove off." He was pleased at the satisfactory way the meeting had turned out.  
  
Little did he know what he was getting himself into... ~~~~~  
  
Sighing, Draco wrenched himself from his memories and glared balefully at the wall. Making sure no one was about, he quickly chanted, "Twinkle little bloody star, how I wonder what you are; up above this hell so high, twinkling like Dumbledore's bloody eye."  
  
The entranced revealed itself, and Draco suppressed a shudder as he went in. Currently, the unofficial theme for the password was 'nursery rhymes'. *Muggle* nursery rhymes. At least the fourth years who had come up with this week's password had a bit of originality in them. The week before that, the dratted second years had made everyone *sing* the password. The entire rhyme of 'Baa Baa Black Sheep'. Whoever had come up with these songs had definitely been mentally deficient. The second years had quickly corrected the password, though, after some... hints... from the senior students. *Painfully* obvious hints.  
  
Draco felt a smile bubble up inside him, but his expression was as cool and unruffled as ever. He looked around the room - the people doing their work glanced up and then quickly glanced back down, with a little flinch. Draco blinked. It was like they were afraid of him... then he mentally smacked himself. Of course, after that incident in the corridor that had landed him with punishment lessons with Potter... he was surprised that no one was scuttling out of the room at this very moment. Perhaps his house trusted him a bit more than he had originally thought.  
  
No doubt the clueless, naïve Gryffindors only saw the bright side of it, and were celebrating the 'return' of their boy hero. He almost pitied Potter - his housemates were so self-absorbed, they only saw what they wanted to see, only saw the *good* and the *positive*. It was only a matter of time before they got killed for their naiveté. Draco was proud of his Slytherins - they considered every aspect, and knew enough to respect his powers and his privacy, knew that he could kill them with one flick of his wand, knew enough to leave him alone.  
  
Draco opened his door. Ok, scratch that. His entire house *excepting* the two people who never seemed to give up. They were like the Gryffindors in that sense - stubborn till the end. And very thick when they wanted to be. This seemed to be one of those times.  
  
"Hey, Draco," greeted Blaise casually, lounging on Draco's bed - his favourite spot, it seemed. Pansy waved a hand distractedly, peering into the mirror. Satisfied, she twisted around in her chair and gave him a proper greeting. "Draco, took you long enough."  
  
"Out," Draco ordered curtly as he pointed a commanding finger at the open door. "Out, out, OUT! Before I hex you into oblivion."  
  
"Oh, come on, Draco. You might scare everyone else, but you don't scare us. We know you, and we know you wouldn't do that to us," Blaise said dismissively. Draco growled. The worst thing was, he was right. He would never hurt Blaise and Pansy. Or Vincent and Gregory, for that matter - they were dumb, but they respected him and were loyal to him. It was just that he couldn't trust them. Those two were hopeless at keeping secrets, unlike Blaise and Pansy, and even then he didn't tell these two everything.  
  
Tracey Davis poked her head around Draco's still open door. "Everything alright - YEOW!"  
  
"Go away!" Draco yelled through the door that he had just slammed into Tracey's face. Blaise, Pansy, Vincent and Gregory might be safe from him, and he usually hesitated before hurting a fellow Slytherin (for about half a second's hesitation, mind you, he wasn't *that* nice and he had a reputation to keep up, after all) but right now he had no patience left to deal with that gossip of a Davis.  
  
"That must have hurt," commented Blaise from his comfortable position on the bed, as the sound of Tracey's anguished yells penetrated the formidable door. "I think her nose might be broken."  
  
"Everyone in Slytherin knows healing spells, she'll be fine," assured Pansy. "So. To business. First things first: it's already dark, where the heck were you?"  
  
"Snape's office." Draco said curtly, as he strode around to his cupboard, roughly pulling it open and yanking out a thicker, yet no less elegant robe than the one he was currently wearing.  
  
"Professor Snape sure kept you a long time," commented Pansy. "Compared to all the other times he's pulled you in for a talk."  
  
Draco shrugged off his robe, leaving it in a careless pool on the floor. "This time he had more to talk at me about."  
  
"Talk *at* you? Oh. He was yelling at your reckless, unthinkable, brainless stupidity, right?" Blaise stood and helped Draco into the heavier robe, seeing how he was struggling with it.  
  
"Better than trying to counsel me and get me to open up to him," growled Draco, slightly calmer now, soothed by Blaise's methodical fastening of his robe. Blaise has a narcissistic streak that rivaled Draco's - even Pansy's vain primping fell short of theirs. Blaise and Draco were the ones who usually acted as the fashion experts, making sure that when they went out, all five of them - including Crabbe and Goyle - were looking their best. Not that they could do much with the two significantly larger boys, though. There were some things even a critical eye for fashion couldn't fix.  
  
"You have to admit, though, that that display was quite impressive." Pansy watched as Blaise finished the last fastening and began fussing over the rest of the robe, smoothing creases and brushing off specks of dirt. "Been training in secret? Didn't know you were *that* powerful."  
  
"Don't piss me off. I've already been interrogated and scolded all afternoon. And then they tell me I've to partner Potter in almost every single lesson I have, dammit!" he was almost yelling at the end of his little rant, venting off some frustrated anger. Blaise had stood back, arms folded, a shadowed look in his purple eyes, while Pansy remained unmoving in her chair, eyes never leaving Draco's face.  
  
Draco sighed. He wasn't like that idiot of a Potter, he knew true friends when he saw them and he knew better than to push them over the limit. Though Potter's Dream Team seemed to have no 'limit' to speak of, his Slytherin friends were more human and didn't have that self-sacrificing martyr spirit. And he liked them that way. It had to be extremely tiring to act like you were perfect, every single moment, when you were just as human as everyone else.  
  
"I'm sorry," he muttered. "Stress, you know? What with yesterday's meeting, and today's spectacle in the hall and corridor, and then getting lectured and punished afterwards, you can see why I might be a bit tired."  
  
Blaise and Pansy stared at him for a while longer, before breaking out into small smiles. They could tell when he was being sincere, and this was one of those rare times he bothered to apologise. Blaise stepped forward again and rested his hand on Draco's shoulder, concern in his eyes. "You really should rest, get some sleep. Pansy will act the jealous girlfriend again and I'll back her up, so that no one will bother you."  
  
"Really appreciate it, but no thanks. I want to go out again." Draco squeezed Blaise's hand reassuringly, before walking over to his desk and pocketing his piano, shrunk down to miniature size. He held Pansy's shoulder briefly, to reassure her like he had Blaise, before walking to the door and getting his Firebolt, yet another show of money from his *dear* father. "Don't stay up, I'll be out all night." Then he was gone.  
  
Silence. Then, "Doesn't this situation look awfully familiar?"  
  
"Yeah. We've been in it for the past few months."  
  
"When will he learn to stop walking out on us?"  
  
"Actually, it's more like when will he learn to trust us enough to stop walking out on us."  
  
"But we've to admit, he's been much more relaxed this time. Less wary. He even apologized!"  
  
"Yeah. I'm worried about him staying out late every night, and last night he didn't even come back till dawn! Yet he seems better, somehow! It doesn't make sense."  
  
"Draco has always defied logic."  
  
"Yeah, I guess."  
  
"We should go back too, Pansy. He's old enough to take care of himself."  
  
"I know, I know... but he's like family."  
  
"The thing is, he might not have much in the way of families. I mean, look at *his*. Maybe he doesn't know what a family is supposed to be."  
  
"When he opens up to us, hopefully sooner than later, let's show him what it's like."  
  
A sad smile. "If it's not too late."  
  
+++++  
  
oops... yet another long chap. I have *got* to stop yakking so much. At this rate I'll have thirty over chapters and I won't even be halfway through the story! Oh well. This chap is just dealing with the consequences of their fight. Next chap: Draco and Harry's lesson together! I *promise* that the next chap will be better. *grins*  
  
and... if you've read this, please REVIEW. I don't care if you just write one word (so long as it isn't an expletive). Just, let me know there are actually people *reading* this story. Please! *puppy eyes*  
  
:::Darke Angel:::Who Will Guard the Guardians?:::65 reviews so far:::  
  
and if anyone thinks the chapters need to be shorter, please tell me and I'll cut out bits from the story. 


	7. Enemies turned Friends

Summary: HP/DM SLASH! Set in 5th year & beyond, continuing from the 4th book. Harry & Draco are suffering from reality & withdraw from the Light into the Dark. As the world readies for war, Harry finds out startling secrets about his past, prophecies involving him & Draco. He pushes away the people he loves, hurting both himself and them. And Draco's torn between the Light and the Dark, with pressing reasons on each side to consider. They find each other through the music they find solace in, away from prying eyes, while War begins its deadly march. And the world meets someone it never imagined still existed.  
  
Disclaimer: me no own Harry Potter or anything else the goddess J.K. Rowling has created. Though I wish I own Draco Malfoy.  
  
Pairings: HP/DM, SB/RL, RW/HG and others  
  
Author's note: Short and sweet - a big thank you to all my reviewers! Total of 83 reviews so far!  
  
To Ice Lupus: no, there isn't any 'whole lot more of this fic' somewhere else. If there is, someone else has copied my fic. So if you come across this 'whole lot more of this fic' again, tell me where that 'somewhere else' is.  
  
READ THE AUTHOR'S NOTE AT THE END AFTER EVERYTHING!!!  
  
Chapter Six  
  
"So, just tap your wand against the knob, like this. Say the unlocking spell, wait three seconds, then say the password. Currently the password is 'Bubblegum'. Don't look at me like that, it was Dumbledore's idea. You can change the password by saying the current one, then the new one. I myself have a special password that lets me in regardless of what password you have. Once you close the door, it automatically locks. Oh, yes, and this room is magically protected, so any magic you do in here cannot leak or be detected outside. So, any questions? If not, I'll leave you here and you can go in now. The materials are inside." Professor Lupin looked at the two sullen boys and sighed. "Try not to fight, will you?"  
  
"We won't," Draco answered coolly.  
  
Remus gave them dubious looks, like he wasn't sure he would find either one alive when he came back. "Okay, I'll be back when class ends. Otherwise, don't go anywhere, hear me?"  
  
"Yes, Professor Lupin."  
  
Remus Lupin sighed and made his way back down the stairs, leaving the Gryffindor and the Slytherin to glare first at each other, then at the door that led to their tower room. Finally Draco sneered, "Potter, we need to decide a password. Any good suggestions?"  
  
"How about 'bloody cowards'?" Harry suggested sourly. Last night with the pianist had been wonderfully relaxing and liberating, but this morning, a five-minute stay in the Great Hall had left him fully pissed at the Hogwarts population. He had left immediately after grabbing a piece of plain toast at random off the Gryffindor table, to eat his 'breakfast' by the lakeside in *peace*. Away from the rest of the school.  
  
Draco smiled humourlessly. "Actually I was thinking along the lines of 'ignorant idiots'. I'm *hungry*, dammit." He, too, had had a wonderful night 'talking' to the flutist, only to run headfirst into a horrible morning. He had escaped from the Hall, to eat in one of the many lush gardens around Hogwarts. He had tried the kitchens, but the reaction from the house elves were... not very encouraging. He had left after barely a few seconds in there.  
  
Harry looked a little startled. "You ate outside?"  
  
"What's it to you if I did?"  
  
"Forget I asked."  
  
Draco looked thoughtful. "Tell you what, we'll combine our ideas. 'Bloody ignorant cowardly idiots' sound good to you?"  
  
"Perfect."  
  
"You do the honours."  
  
Harry stepped forward and tapped his wand against the doorknob, muttered 'Pateso', waited for three seconds, and said "Bubblegum." Then, with savage, gleeful satisfaction hissed, "Bloody ignorant cowardly idiots".  
  
The door swung open and the two boys went in, closing the door behind them. They surveyed their new workplace. It was about the same size as Draco's own room, which was a fourth of the Gryffindor dorms. As a Slytherin senior, Draco had been given his own room; as a Malfoy, he had gotten the most spacious one of them all.  
  
A couple of two-seater couches were on either side of the cackling fire to their left, angled to face inwards to that the fireplace and couches formed sort of a triangle. The wall directly opposite them had a large window that jutted out, and the ledge inside had been padded to form a window seat facing the lake and the Forest. Stacked against the right wall were thick, aged tomes, the ones they had to go through. In the middle of the room, four wooden chairs surrounded a small round table, only able to seat about four people. All in all, it was sort of... cozy. Harry shuddered at the thought of sharing anything *cozy* with Malfoy.  
  
"Well... this isn't half bad," Draco admitted. "I imagined something worse." He carelessly tossed his bag on the tabletop.  
  
"Like a jail cell?" Harry muttered, following suit, but treating his bag with more care.  
  
Malfoy heard him, and replied, "Yeah, but I should have known Professor Lupin would be considerate enough to not dump us in the dungeons. That's something Professor Snape would do. To you, at least."  
  
Harry blinked at Malfoy's accurate description of Professor Lupin... or Remus, which was what Harry had called the quiet werewolf before *that* incident. He shook himself out of his thoughts and looked over at Malfoy, who had flopped down onto one of the couches. Funny, he had thought Malfoy was a vain prick who screamed if even one strand of hair was out of place. Yet here he was, being rather relaxed for a Slytherin who was stuck in a room with a Gryffindor.  
  
"Sit down, Potter. Don't get me wrong; I'm not trying to be nice or anything. I was just thinking, since we're stuck here anyway, let's call a truce." Draco raised a perfect eyebrow at the dumbstruck Gryffindor. "Do sit down, it's quite comfy here, the couch is nice and squishy."  
  
Harry sat numbly, on the other couch. Malfoy was offering a truce? Malfoy was - heaven forbid - being *nice*? Hello? Malfoy? There was something wrong with this picture. Surely there was a catch, a motive behind this. He was sure Malfoy didn't do it out of the kindness of his heart, since he most likely didn't have one.  
  
"Why are you suddenly asking for a truce? Are you mad?" Harry asked suspiciously.  
  
"I'm not *asking* for a truce, Potter, merely *suggesting*. I'm not about to ask anything from a *Gryffindor*. Particularly not you. But look, we have to co-operate to get anything done. If we're yelling and trying to kill each other, we'll most likely be stuck here till seventh year. And as much as I like this room already, that's not a very welcome idea, is it?" He paused, and then smirked. "And you know what? I think it's precisely because I've gone mad that I'm even considering a truce with you."  
  
Harry shrugged, unperturbed. "Then I'm mad, too, for even considering having a civilized conversation with you, let alone a truce. But go on."  
  
"So. We just call a truce, and try to get along civilly. No picking fights, no arguing. Only discussions. And only in this room, of course. Anything that happens here, never - and I repeat never, not even to your friends Granger or Weasley - goes out of this room. Here, we drop all the masks we have around the others, since we both go through the same thing so we both know what each other feels. Or have you not noticed we both want people to leave us alone when they keep giving us pity?"  
  
Harry considered it, then nodded for Malfoy to continue.  
  
"But at the same time, I don't want to know about your troubles or your problems. I don't want to become friends or confidantes or anything as close as that. Just partners. Associates. Laughing, joking is fine. Serious talks and getting to know each other are not. No prying into each other's lives, either. It's all business, like a partnership for profit and profit only. I need people to talk to me *normally*, and I think so do you. Fair enough?"  
  
Harry considered the boy's words. It wasn't like they were going to become great friends or anything. This was just to ensure they would get along. And he needed to talk to someone who wouldn't pity him, who didn't care what he was doing to himself - it was killing him, having to keep his wall up around everything that talked. And here was someone offering that very chance. Better yet, since it was a secret that even Malfoy would guard closely, no one would know of their new truce, so he didn't have to worry about putting another person in danger, even if it was *Malfoy*, who he really didn't give a damn about.  
  
So, why not? "Yeah. Sure. The truce also holds when we're sure no one's listening. Otherwise, we go back to glaring at each other." He held out his hand when Draco nodded. "Shake on it."  
  
Draco sighed, a look of disdain on his face. Harry refused to let it get to him, however, still holding his hand out. He didn't trust the Slytherin much, and though he doubted a handshake would make Malfoy trustworthy, it might at least make him hesitate before breaking the truce anyway.  
  
Draco shook his head and gave up, reaching over to grasp Harry's hand in a firm shake, not trying to test his strength like so many people did. Harry, to his credit, didn't do such a thing either. "My word as a Gryffindor and a Potter." His intense green eyes bored into Draco's sharp silver-grey ones.  
  
"Yes, yes, and mine as a Slytherin and a Malfoy." They let go. "Honestly, Potter. Nowadays you're not much of a Gryffindor, always hiding from everyone. And you're not living up to your parents' legacy, cowering away from reality. They at least faced it unwaveringly. But then again, I'm not much of a proper Slytherin nor a proper Malfoy, so I guess both our words aren't much good."  
  
Harry stared at the other boy. He didn't know whether to be angry at Malfoy's insult to him, or thank him for his sort-of praise of Harry's parents, or be shocked at his admission to not being a 'proper Slytherin' or a 'proper Malfoy', whatever that meant. So he said what seemed to be the best thing at the moment.  
  
"Huh?"  
  
"Forget it. Now, since we have forty-five minutes to kill, and I don't feel like starting work yet - let's talk about those 'bloody ignorant cowardly idiots', shall we?" Draco leaned forward, anticipation in his movements.  
  
Despite himself, Harry was intrigued. Something was up. "So, what about them?"  
  
"Did you see the way those Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs flinched away from you? The way they whispered and muttered amongst themselves and kept staring fearfully over at us? The way they cringed every single damned time we so much as moved or glanced over at them? It's ridiculous, that's what it is. Bloody irritating. I went to the kitchens, and the elves reacted the same way. They couldn't wait to get rid of me. This is assuming you got the same reaction as I did, of course."  
  
"You forgot to mention the dirty looks your house was giving me and the way they kept saying loudly that you could beat me anytime."  
  
"Yeah, well, your house did much the same thing, except instead of the respectful distance my house kept from me, the Gryffindors were *grinning* at you. Grinning! Don't they realize we could have killed them anytime? Bloody oblivious idiots, the lot of them. If Gryffindor is the pride of the Light side, you might as well die now."  
  
Harry opened his mouth to argue, but then closed it. Malfoy was right. Hadn't he thought the same thing before?  
  
Draco was surprised that the Gryffindor had let it go without a fight. Maybe there *was* a little hope for the golden boy, after all.  
  
Harry looked steadily at him. "Now what?"  
  
"Right. Well, I was thinking, why don't we get back at them?" The grin on Draco's face was positively devious.  
  
It took a lot of effort for Harry to keep his appearance unaffected. "And why would you think that I would like to 'get back at them'?"  
  
Draco rolled his eyes. "Come off it, Potter. You know even better than I do all the rules you've broken. Besides, you have an Invisibility Cloak and better yet, prankster genes."  
  
Harry froze. "You - know about the Cloak and my parents?"  
  
"The Cloak was simple to figure out, I have one too. As for your parents, I recall I was the one who knew about Black and your father's friendship even before you did. Stands to reason if I knew they were friends, I'd know about their little group. Your father, Black, Lupin and Pettigrew. Didn't take a lot of research to figure that out."  
  
"Research?!" Harry sputtered. "You *research* my life?"  
  
"Yes," Draco said calmly. "Cool off. Truce, remember? It's the only reason I'm telling you some of my secrets now."  
  
"Okay. First tell me why you're *researching* me," Harry ground out through clenched teeth.  
  
"It's no big deal, Potter. One of our family mottos. 'Know Thine Enemy'. In Latin, of course. The ancient language of wizards."  
  
"Ah. Any other Malfoy mottos I should be warned about?"  
  
Draco looked thoughtful. "Well... if you're talking about those that would violate your strict Gryffindor code of honour and loyalty, or are 'dark' in some sense, then yes, but that means all of them. And I don't have the inclination to go through all three hundred."  
  
"Three hundred!"  
  
"Yes, three hundred. Are you going to help or not?"  
  
Harry looked hard at Malfoy. If he thought about the boy in unbiased terms, he had to admit, Malfoy wasn't that bad. He didn't get by in his studies just because he was the teacher's pet (that was only in Potions) - he was a close second in the school, and that took hard work, determination and brains. These few years, he was one of the people Harry looked forward to playing in Quidditch, because unlike most everyone else, he really did have flying skill, -and- he didn't go easy on Harry like the others did. And when his judgment wasn't clouded by anger, he had to admit that Malfoy had a wickedly sharp sense of humour, if a bit sadistic. And he was a good leader to boot. Working with him would be almost... fun.  
  
He allowed himself to relax. "You planned this all along, when you asked for the truce, right?"  
  
Draco smirked. "Took you this long to figure out? Why would I ask for something when there isn't anything in it for me? You insult me, Potter."  
  
Harry rolled his eyes. "Just remember - we drop our masks in here but that doesn't mean we start sharing deep personal secrets or trusting each other. Other than that, you've got a deal, Malfoy."  
  
"Then let's get cracking, Potter. Any good ideas for a prank? And on the entire student population of Hogwarts excepting us, no less!"  
  
"Well, between your Potions expertise and my Charms skill, and with both our Seeker reflexes to slip away easily if needed, we'd surely be able to come up with something grand enough to live up to our standards. I mean, it has to leave a lasting impression."  
  
"And we have to beat the Weasley twins, the Leroy kids, and the legendary Marauders, too. But with my brains, we'll surpass them for sure." Draco reclined in his couch; arm thrown over the back with a satisfied, confidant smile on his face.  
  
"It's not going to be easy," warned Harry, rolling his eyes at Malfoy's claim. "The Marauders came up with some pretty good ones."  
  
Draco waved a hand dismissively. Harry scowled.  
  
"Now, what do you say we include the teachers? And should we include ourselves to make it more believable?" Draco wondered aloud.  
  
"Well, I think we should..."  
  
And that was how Remus found them, talking earnestly and animatedly together.  
  
+++++  
  
Remus Lupin was not easily surprised. When you become a deadly wolf that rips up everything once a month, have a charming rogue who delighted in the unexpected as a best friend, a seemingly batty yet wise leader who thought that surprises sprung regularly were the best kind, and a past filled with sudden shocking pain, loss, and betrayal, you aren't really surprised at most things.  
  
Yet, upon entering the room he had given two of his brightest and most promising students, he couldn't help but stare at the sight of the aforementioned two chatting. He had left a couple of sullen enemies shooting 'Die-you-evil-spawn-of-Satan' looks at each other who hadn't so much as smiled in the past few years - excepting yesterday in the Hall, of course - and had pushed away all the people who cared for them; and he was now greeted with a couple of *friends*.  
  
*They look good together,* Remus realized. *Like they've been together since birth and are going to stay that way. Like they're best of friends. Like they belong to each other.*  
  
*Like Sirius and me.*  
  
That thought was too much for Remus. He had been thinking of Draco and Harry in a more-than-friends relationship - where the hell had the idea of he and Sirius being like *that* come from? He shook his head firmly at himself.  
  
The movement drew the boys' attention to him, and they abruptly shut up. Giving each other unreadable looks, they stood up in one fluid movement and gazed coolly at their Professor. He nodded to them in greeting. "I see you're getting along," he commented mildly.  
  
"Yes, we were just getting to know each other. You know, working out our differences so we can better work with each other in this project," Draco replied smoothly. "So we won't end up killing each other every five minutes. We'll start work next time." He moved gracefully over to the table and slung his bag over his shoulder. "I take it lesson time is over?"  
  
"Yes, it's just ended," replied Remus as Harry also walked over to pick up his bag. "So I take it you managed to 'work out your differences'?"  
  
"Yes, Professor Lupin, we have. But I suppose you didn't see anything just now, did you? You only hazarded a guess, seeing we're both still in one piece." There was a challenge in both Harry's gaze and eyes.  
  
Remus looked at Harry steadily, causing him to drop his gaze after a while, before looking at Draco. The teen gazed back steadily, not looking away. Finally, Remus said, "My memory's been slipping lately. I seem to have forgotten what I just saw a minute ago. However, my memory has been known to come back at odd times, particularly when I'm under stress."  
  
The message was clear: Remus would not mention to anyone what he had seen, but if the boys gave him any trouble, he wouldn't be held responsible for what he 'let slip'. Draco and Harry both nodded. It was fair.  
  
"Well then. Let's go, boys." With a wave of his wand, Remus put the fire out, and the three of them left, the door clicking shut behind them.  
  
They walked down the winding staircase and emerged out of the tower into one of the fourth-floor corridors. There, the three of them split up - Professor Lupin to his DADA classroom, and the boys to their next class, the Transfiguration classroom.  
  
Upon entering the classroom together, the whispers that had been circulating amongst the Slytherins and Gryffindors came to an abrupt halt. All eyes turned to stare at the two who were currently the hottest gossip in Hogwarts. Draco and Harry noted that the seats had been rearranged into pairs, and that the Slytherins and Gryffindors had separated into two halves, one on each side of the classroom - leaving one pair of seats right at the front.  
  
They looked at the seats. They looked at each other. They glared lightning and a thousand painful deaths at everyone in sight. Just then, McGonagall swept in. "Mr. Potter, Mr. Malfoy. Just sit down, you'll be getting up in a few seconds."  
  
Draco and Harry moved reluctantly to their desks and sat while their professor stood at the front of the class and whipped out a piece of parchment. "Now, class. No doubt you know about the inter-house pairings, so I'll go straight to the point. Stand up, all of you, and move to the back of the classroom - " they did, with a little grumbling " - and come forward to take your seats once I call your names."  
  
Draco and Harry weren't surprised when the first pair she called out was "Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy", and sat at the very back of the room, in the right corner with walls to their backs and their right. They watched as "Ronald Weasley and Blaise Zabini" took seats directly in front of them, and "Hermione Granger and Pansy Parkinson" sat on their left.  
  
"Seamus Finnigan and Larry Rhimes", "Neville Longbottom and Vincent Crabbe", "Lavender Brown and Millicent Bulstrode", "Kassia Jordan and Tracey Davis", and "Parvati Patil and Gregory Goyle" each found their seats with varying looks of disgust on their faces - particularly Goyle and Parvati, who were the only male-female pair. 'Ew...' was clearly written all over Parvati's face.  
  
"This will be your permanent seating arrangement, at least for this year," McGonagall said in clipped tones. "No use trying to change them, unless I feel it will be more productive to rearrange your seating. Now, without further ado..."  
  
She turned to the blackboard and began writing, explaining clearly what they were going to do. Her lecture, short and to the point, ended ten minutes later and the class got to work.  
  
Ron, Blaise, Hermione and Pansy glanced surreptitiously at the quiet pair. Harry and Draco stonily cast their spells - Harry's frog still had a white bobtail, while Draco's had bunny ears, paws, and whiskers, with patches of white fur. They looked like they were ignoring each other. Satisfied that their friends weren't going to have another scene like the one in the hall, the four turned back to their own rabbits, blinking up at them peacefully through the bars of the cage.  
  
"Sorry for this," Ron apologized to the rabbit. Looking around at the other students, he saw that Harry and Draco were by far the most successful (Hermione hadn't started yet, she and Pansy were cooing over the animals) - all the others had managed to do were little things, like turning their rabbit frog-green, and in Neville's case his partner. Ron sniggered. Crabbe looked better green.  
  
Blaise snorted and rolled his eyes. *He's apologizing to a rabbit? Please.* A casual flick of his wand and a muttered spell later, his frog now sprouted white fur and a twitching bunny nose.  
  
Ron turned to glare at him. "What was that for?" he snapped.  
  
"What? I was just doing the spell like we're supposed to," Blaise replied with a sneer.  
  
"I meant the pig-like snort."  
  
"I suppose you know how pigs sound like, since you are one."  
  
Ron turned red with anger, but tried to control it. "That was lame, Zabini. Can't come up with anything better, I suppose, since you don't have much brains."  
  
Blaise raised a disdainful eyebrow - an art he perfected with Draco's help. "More than you do, obviously. At least I've proven I can work this spell to some degree. Since you haven't even started, I assume you're too afraid of blowing yourself up to try."  
  
"Why you little - " Ron grabbed his wand and pointed it at the rabbit, hissing the spell. Blaise stepped back, knowing that the spell was bound to go wrong, since people in rages hardly did new spells right. And true enough, Ron's rabbit turned bright, neon green in a puff of blue smoke that dissipated throughout the classroom.  
  
"Mr. Weasley!" Professor McGonagall seemed to materialize out of thin air, a disapproving frown on her face. "Concentrate! Please try to get it right this time."  
  
Ron nodded, face now flushed from embarrassment. "Yes, Professor," he mumbled as the stern woman moved off to help Crabbe, who now somehow had gotten furry white ears, with Neville almost in tears at the side.  
  
Blaise laughed quietly. "Thank goodness not all redheads are as clumsy and idiotic as your family, Weasley, or the Cannons would have lost every game without Lent Rogers and Johnny Davies."  
  
Ron swung around in shock, knocking the cage off the table. Blaise had to dive to save it. When he emerged, running fingers through his hair to push it back, his annoyed look was replaced by irritation (not that there was much difference) when Ron repeated, "The Cannons? Lent Rogers? Johnny Davies? You support the Chudley Cannons?!"  
  
"Yes, Weasley, I do. Anything wrong - no. No. Way. Don't tell me you do too?!" The look of horror on both their faces was priceless when Ron nodded dumbly.  
  
"Oh *damn*!"  
  
+++++  
  
"Boys," muttered Pansy under her breath, "Can't they just accept the fact and get along?" Hermione, catching it with her sharp ears, sighed, "I know what you mean."  
  
The two girls regarded each other with less hostility than before. With their shared opinion of cute animals and immature boys, Hermione was beginning to change her opinion of Pansy as a whiny air headed blonde, and Pansy was beginning to think Hermione might actually be able to act her age and not ten years older.  
  
"So," Pansy said conversationally, watching Hermione turn her rabbit into a perfect frog, "How's Potter doing these days? Closed off as ever?"  
  
"Yes, he's been very withdrawn, as you may have noticed," Hermione replied, watching amusedly as Pansy's rabbit's feet became a frog's webbed feet. "No, your wrist movement is wrong. Roll it in a full circle ending with the heel of the palm facing up, but keep your wand trained on the rabbit. Malfoy's not doing very well either, I see."  
  
"Yeah, he's almost as bad as Potter, but at least he still talks to us, and eats," Pansy shrugged. She smiled as the rabbit turned into half a frog, so that it looked like the top half of a rabbit mounted on the bottom half of a frog. "Hey, much better, thanks, Granger."  
  
"No problem. I'm worried about Harry. I mean, outwardly you can't see he's not eating, what with all the flying he's been doing. He's lean with muscle but skinny, know what I mean?" Hermione turned the frog back into a rabbit, then turned it into a frog again, and looked over at Pansy.  
  
"Yeah, I know. Had the same problem with Draco before we convinced him either it was him eating or us nagging him to death." She frowned at the frog, which now had a rabbit's head and tail.  
  
"We?"  
  
"Blaise and I, Vince and Greg." Pansy looked at Hermione's doubtful expression before sighing. Softly she said, "Granger, you might think we Slytherins are heartless, but you might be surprised to know that we're human. Draco's like our brother, just like Harry is to you. And I don't know why I'm telling you this, but I guess I'm sick of all the hating that's going on and I'd just like to set things straight. Woman to woman, you know?" She smiled wanly.  
  
Hermione looked at Pansy, really looked, and saw another insecure girl worrying about a dear friend, instead of the stuck-up Slytherin she had stereotyped the blonde as. Tentatively she said, "I'm sorry... Pansy."  
  
Pansy gave Hermione a small smile. "Nothing to be sorry about... Hermione. It's just the Slytherin-Gryffindor rivalry that gets people making prejudices. I guess us girls are more open-minded than those stubborn boys, hmm?"  
  
They grinned at each other, feeling much better.  
  
"Now, *those* boys have the worst attitudes of all," Pansy said, indicating the two silent boys in the corner. Harry, being better at charms, had by now turned his rabbit into a perfect frog, while Draco still had ears and whiskers to get rid of.  
  
Hermione nodded, before a thought occurred to her. "Um, Pansy, isn't Malfoy sort of... your boyfriend?"  
  
Pansy blinked, then chuckled. "My, our acting must be pretty good to have fooled the top student in the school! No, it's just faking. It's how we help Draco to discourage any adoring fans going after him. With me to act the psychotic jealous girlfriend, Vince and Greg to act as the hulking bodyguards, and Blaise to do overall damage control, we save ourselves the trouble of restraining Draco from hexing them into next week. Or haven't you noticed he's one of the most sought after guys in the school?"  
  
"Yeah, I noticed," Hermione admitted. "I heard from Parvati that Harry and Malfoy are tied at the top of the 'hot list' now, right?"  
  
"Oh, yes!" Pansy squealed excitedly. Unknown to them, this attracted the attention of the quiet pair in the corner. "Here - take a look at this - "  
  
She pulled a list out of her bag discreetly, looking at McGonagall, who was occupied with saving Crabbe. On the parchment, right at the top in flowing cursive script, was the title 'Draco Malfoy VS Harry Potter'.  
  
"Malfoy versus Harry?" whispered Hermione, looking scandalized. "Parkin - sorry, Pansy, that's my best friend, and yours too!"  
  
"I know," replied Pansy breezily. "But what they don't know won't hurt them. This list was written by some Draco and Harry fanatics, and I managed to get it when they were fighting over who was cuter."  
  
Together they read aloud the list, checking once in a while to see if McGonagall was coming.  
  
"Harry Potter - messily adorable."  
  
"Draco Malfoy - sleek and sexy." Pause. "What?!"  
  
"Shh, keep your voice down! Look, just read - Harry Potter has hair that has got that wild 'just shagged' look to it, and brilliant green eyes."  
  
"Draco Malfoy - " Hermione's voice was still choked " - has got fine silky silvery hair and piercing silvery-grey eyes to match. Look, don't they have anything better to do than stalk Harry and Malfoy?"  
  
"I guess not. Ok, to continue, Potter had that irresistible sweet innocence back then, and now he's got that brooding mysterious air around him."  
  
"Malfoy has that dangerous smooth charm, and he's an enigma that we all want to solve."  
  
"Potter had that gorgeous, cute, shy grin that makes you feel he's sharing secrets with you, and now he's got that soulful 'get-lost' look that makes us want to pick him up and cuddle him. "  
  
"What? Soulful 'get-lost' look?! *Cuddle* him?! That's not - Ok, ok, I'll continue, stop glaring. Malfoy has that delicious devil-may- care smirk that makes you melt."  
  
"Let's see... they both have that slim-yet-muscled body from Quidditch flying."  
  
"And that natural liquid grace both on and off the ground, tall and slim and fluid like elves. Hey, elves aren't like that! The elfin species - "  
  
"Please, don't start! I don't need a lecture on elves, thank you. The way they fly is breathtaking."  
  
"What? Oh, the list. Okay... both their tenors flow so soothingly and almost makes you faint with sensory overload."  
  
"You just want to jump them right there and then whenever they even move."  
  
Pause.  
  
"Ew. Too much information. You should burn this list, Pansy, before you get nightmares. Ugh!"  
  
"What, you think I don't have them already?"  
  
The girls looked at each other and then dissolved into helpless giggles, before hastily going back to work, seeing that McGonagall was making her way towards them.  
  
+++++  
  
"Is it just the light, or are you green?" Harry muttered to Draco under his breath, feeling ill.  
  
"It's me, definitely. And you look green, too. How can they *listen* to such things?" Draco groused.  
  
"How can they even *repeat* such things?" Harry agreed. He cast a wary glance at the two girls. Shuddering, he said gloomily, "At least they're getting along."  
  
"Thank goodness we only caught the last bit of their talk. I'd hate to think what they were talking about before that." Draco waved his wand and growled when the ears disappeared from the frog but the whiskers remained. "Dammit!"  
  
"Shh!" hissed Harry. "Try that again."  
  
Draco did it again, with no result.  
  
"Turn the forearm as well, to keep the wand trained on the rabbit, um, the frog. If you don't turn your forearm, the wand doesn't stay pointed at the rabbit - the frog - oh, the dratted animal."  
  
Draco nodded and tried it again. His face lost its annoyed frown when the frog lost its whiskers, in all appearances a normal bullfrog. "Thanks," he said reluctantly.  
  
Harry ignored his tone. "S'okay. Since we've both finished, and I don't think either one of us wants to listen to any more talk by the two fanatics over there - " they glanced over at the two boys, who were gesturing wildly and talking heatedly, animals forgotten (though there was a furious Professor bearing down on them at the very moment) " - or any more gossip on how attractive we both are, let's discuss our payback, shall we?"  
  
Draco smirked evilly.  
  
+++++  
  
IMPORTANT!!!  
  
You might think Harry and Draco were a little OOC in here. But here's a reminder *why* they're like that.  
  
1. They have a truce, so they HAVE to put aside their arguments and everything.  
  
2. They have established that they're both in the same situations, so they understand what each other goes through, and it's nice to have someone who understands.  
  
3. They're both pretty relaxed after last night.  
  
4. They're united in the revenge they want to carry out on the exact same people for the exact same reasons.  
  
5. I got tired of writing angst!Harry and angst!Draco. I decided to speed things up a little. So sue me.  
  
(less than 5500 words this time - not bad)  
  
Remember to review! reviews make me update faster! And since the rate now is quite slow, that means I'm not getting enough reviews, see?  
  
Draco: Wow. Brilliant leap of logic, Duck.  
  
Darke Angel: What. Did. You. Call. Me?!  
  
Draco: Duck. You know, Darke Angel? Duck Angel? So, Duck. (Nonchalantly turns back on enraged author and starts sauntering away)  
  
Harry: (sniggering) Um, Draco, I think you'd better heed your own advice.  
  
Draco: (blinks) Duck?  
  
Harry: Uh, yes...  
  
(Authoress whacks Draco on head with large frying pan.)  
  
Draco: @_@ oh, look... there's duckies flyin' round me head... pwetty... (dead faint)  
  
::: Darke Angel ::: Who Will Guard the Guardians? :::  
  
Review dammit. 


	8. Food

Summary: HP/DM SLASH! Set in 5th year & beyond, continuing from the 4th book. Harry & Draco are suffering from reality & withdraw from the Light into the Dark. As the world readies for war, Harry finds out startling secrets about his past, prophecies involving him & Draco. He pushes away the people he loves, hurting both himself and them. And Draco's torn between the Light and the Dark, with pressing reasons on each side to consider. They find each other through the music they find solace in, away from prying eyes, while War begins its deadly march. And the world meets someone it never imagined still existed.  
  
Disclaimer: me no own Harry Potter or anything else the goddess J.K. Rowling has created. Though I wish I own Draco Malfoy.  
  
Pairings: HP/DM, SB/RL, RW/HG and others  
  
Author's note: Thanks to all who reviewed! All the encouragement, the comments... really appreciated it!  
  
Note that this chapter is on the same day as the previous chapter.  
  
+++++  
  
Chapter Seven  
  
+++++  
  
Harry was preoccupied with developing the rough plan he and Malfoy had come up. After Transfiguration, and all though lunch and double Charms (he was good at charms, and Professor Flitwick had his hands too full from keeping the Hufflepuffs from blowing themselves up to bother about the Gryffindors), he had been thinking hard. Now, it was History of Magic with the Ravenclaws, and instead of sleeping like he usually did, he was discreetly scribbling down plans, so as not to alert anyone to what he was doing, particularly not Hermione.  
  
He wasn't sure if the Slytherin had time to think of their plan during the school day, since he had Herbology, Arithmancy, and now Ancient Runes, all classes that he couldn't slack in. And they had agreed to set their plan in motion the next day, so there wasn't much time. They were determined to get their revenge as soon as possible, so that there would be other things to gossip about besides the two of them.  
  
When the bell rang, signalling the end of school, Harry was out of the class in a flash, too fast for his friends to keep up. He breezed through the halls, making sure neither Hermione nor Ron was following him, before making his way to their 'lair', as Draco had sneeringly called it once, and the name had stuck. Draco was already there, lounging before the barely warm fire. He had just gotten there, it seemed.  
  
Harry plonked down on the other couch; glad to drop his indifference after a day of fearful glances and flinches. He looked at the fire and made a face; he wanted to be warm after walking through the drafty castle. Pulling out his wand, he snapped, "Incendio!"  
  
They both gaped as the fire roared, almost alive as it surged out of the grate. Draco was quicker to react, yelling the first spell that came to mind. Which wasn't a very smart thing to do, since the entire fireplace was suddenly swamped with sand, the grains spilling out onto the floor.  
  
Draco looked over to see Harry sitting on the edge of his seat, his face in his hands. Green eyes looked up, glanced over at the fireplace and then turned their gaze on Draco. "Well, at least you put the fire out," Harry shrugged.  
  
"Gryffindor optimism," was the muttered reply.  
  
"I should have been more careful... especially after last night," Harry sighed.  
  
Draco stiffened. "What about last night?" he asked.  
  
Harry made a face, oblivious to the Slytherin's sudden tension. "I tried to conjure a fire using those bluebell flames, since they're safer to control than real fire, but even that got away from me. The wood I conjured burnt to a crisp immediately. If you hadn't done that sand spell, I'll bet this fire's no different, and the woodpile's an ash pile now."  
  
"Oh." Draco relaxed minutely, sitting down.  
  
Harry was amused, but also slightly suspicious. "What did you think it was?"  
  
"Nothing." How could he explain that last night, the anonymous flutist whom he was coming to trust (imagine, trusting someone he hadn't even seen) had almost overwhelmed him, one moment burning as hot as the sun, the next roaring like a million tidal waves crashing onto shore - onto him. Draco knew the music they made must have something to do with their magic, but it wasn't like any magic he had ever known. Because now, he was more... *attuned* to magic, somehow; his magic was also more potent than before.  
  
During that fight yesterday, he had unthinkingly cast spells and counter spells that he had found difficult to master at first, and some he hadn't even managed to master; yet he had cast them all with the ease of long practice. And during the duel, he could actually feel the magic surrounding him, thick in the air; he could feel magic being cast, being blocked, feel the magic as it hit and did its work.  
  
" - foy? Oi, MALFOY!"  
  
"What the blazes - " yelped Draco as a foot kicked his shin. He jumped up and glared at that insufferable git of a Potter. "What did you kick me for, Scarhead!"  
  
"Be glad I only kicked you, not levitated you out of the window, glass or not," Harry replied calmly. "You weren't listening to me and spacing out. I thought you might need a friendly wake-up call."  
  
"Friendly! Friendly, he says. Then you wouldn't mind if I return that *friendly* gesture, would you!" So saying, he delivered a vicious kick to Harry's ankle.  
  
"OW, dammit!" Harry nursed his ankle. "You little - " He stopped himself and took a deep breath. Ignore Malfoy. Remember, just ignore Malfoy. "Ok. Now we're even. No arguing, no fighting. Right."  
  
Screw that.  
  
"Our truce is the only thing stopping me from beating you to a bloody pulp, you little shit! I kicked you purely to get your attention!"  
  
"Language, Potter, language. Well, you have my attention now. Go on." Draco sat back down, with that condescending smirk that was purely his.  
  
Harry fought to get his temper under control. He had kicked Draco like he would have kicked Ron, like he would have kicked Seamus. Merely something he had done unthinkingly to a friend. *Remember, Malfoy isn't a friend. So never let your guard down around him. He probably doesn't have friends, anyway, he wouldn't know how to be one.* With that cheerful reminder, Harry started talking, and soon, the two boys were deep into their discussion.  
  
+++++  
  
Thunder roared, and storm clouds dug lightning claws into screaming earth. Winds tried to raze all in their path, and failed miserably, sending enraged howls to battle against the thunder's cannonball voice. And the rain, ah, the rain, it pummelled every surface it could reach and invaded all that it could, its endless supply of bullets and tiny, tiny arrows seeking death.  
  
And somewhere, lost in the battlefield that could only be a storm destroying itself, a faint sound, a faint plea hung on to life desperately, trying so hard not to drown, reaching for something to anchor itself to, and finding only the death that surrounded the storm.  
  
So tired, and he couldn't hold on any longer.  
  
"Dammit, where are you?"  
  
His playing became violent, the last reserves of his energy crashing out into the notes and out into the storm and out into death because for all his angry melodies and dissonant chords and cacophonic notes it could barely, if at all, be heard above the sound of the rain and the wind and the thunder. And he was already tired to begin with, from all the stress of the day.  
  
"Please..."  
  
His strength was almost used up, his resolve wavering, his disappointment deep. He knew it would be hard to contact the flutist with the raging storm, but *still*...  
  
He decided to try one last time, with only about a minute more to the end of the song. Closing his eyes, he let his fingers embrace the ivory keys and *pushed* out with his mind, his consciousness shoving through the storm, not just waiting passively, and buoyed by his music, he searched for any trace of lone windblown notes.  
  
Tired piano music struggled through lightning, endured the battering raindrops, and tried to compete with the screaming and screeching and roars. The wind, usually a source of strength, lashed through his mind like it sliced through the rain and the air and the clouds, too strong for him to control. And as for the earth, the pain was unbearable. His fingers faltered, his mouth open and gasping for air, as he tried desperately to hold out for as long as he could.  
  
And then the rain suddenly stopped pounding into his mind, and fire-warmth spread over him, and he could feel numb fingers again. The rain still crowded through the open window in the dusty abandoned classroom, unrelenting as ever (though it couldn't reach him and his piano, safely tucked away in the furthest corner from the opening), but the pressure on his mind had lessened.  
  
He let a smile creep over his face as his notes suddenly soared, wrapping around the storm instead of dying underneath it, rising and falling and laughing. Each note was a smile, a grin, a sigh, not the last whispered breath of a fallen soldier on the battlefield. They revelled in the rain, laughing; nothing could hurt them now, because they had just been swept into welcoming arms and asked to dance.  
  
Crystal piano notes embraced whispery flute sighs as the flute led its partner confidently around the thousand of others crowding the dance floor that was the frigid air. They twirled together to the roaring of thunder drums and the strobe lightning lights, and the clapping and whistling of the rain and the wind. No, the storm could not hurt them now, because they were together, lending strength even as they borrowed.  
  
[Thank you.]  
  
~I'm sorry you had to go through so much pain waiting for me.~  
  
[You must be exerting quite a lot of energy, too, to support me like this. Don't worry, It's alright, now that you're here.]  
  
The flute notes, lost in the rain but not in Draco's mind, seemed to dim, before the flutist informed him hesitatingly, apologetically, ~I'm really tired today, and I can't stay long... I wish I could.~  
  
Draco smiled slightly in relief. [Don't worry about it, I'm drained, too.]  
  
~Sorry.~  
  
[For?]  
  
~You being drained because you were waiting for me?~  
  
[Is that a question or an answer? No, never mind. I was tired before I started playing, that's all.]  
  
~Then, shall we meet tomorrow? Same time?~  
  
[Midnight and a half, then.]  
  
~Promise you'll be here?~  
  
[Yes, promise, but likely I'll be the one waiting. Don't be late.]  
  
~I won't. Tomorrow night, then. Sweet dreams.~  
  
The piano notes strummed in an ending chord, and a comforting solid feeling flickered briefly in his mind, before the connection faded. Harry held on to his last note, the hollow yet strong sound echoing. Then he stepped back from the window, drenched but not minding it; he loved storms, though he could feel how much pain the pianist had to go through because of it, and that made him feel guilty. He'd make it up the next night, perhaps, by being more open with the flutist - not that he hadn't been very open already.  
  
Fighting back a yawn, he made a mental note to make sure his flute wasn't growing mould before another wave of tiredness swept over him, and yawning, he began his trudge back to Gryffindor Tower. He wouldn't miss tomorrow for the world, so he'd better get some rest now.  
  
+++++  
  
At seven thirty in the morning, Harry blearily tumbled out of bed, washed up, dressed, and checked the time. Five minutes to eight. He made his way down to the kitchens, waited, went in, saw that only Dobby served him without any sign of fear or hesitation, got some food and drink, went back out, and made his way to the lakeside.  
  
Draco appeared next to him just as he was halfway through his single piece of dry toast. "Potter. I almost didn't make it through the kitchen door, you shut it so quickly." He sat, grabbed the food from the basket Harry had put on the ground, and started eating. He was halfway through the basket when he realized his companion wasn't eating anything else.  
  
"Potter, aren't you eating?" he asked carelessly. "I'm not saving the food for you, and if you don't get some now - "  
  
"I'm done."  
  
Draco blinked. "What?"  
  
Harry looked at him, annoyed. "I said, I'm done."  
  
"Yeah, but one single piece of plain toast?" he asked disbelievingly.  
  
"I don't eat much."  
  
"I can see that. Why?"  
  
"None of your business."  
  
Draco looked at him critically for a few seconds. "You're trying to starve yourself."  
  
"Brilliant leap of logic, Sherlock."  
  
"Who?"  
  
"Never mind."  
  
Pause.  
  
"You're seriously messed up, Potter."  
  
"Thanks."  
  
Draco sighed. He knew what the other boy was going through. He had done the same thing, before he had given in to Pansy's motherly care and Blaise's brotherly concern. And he felt all the better for it. Though he didn't really like the Gryffindor, he knew that the boy was similar to him in many ways; from the way they isolated themselves right down to the closest friends they had - for Potter, Granger and Weasley; for him, Pansy and Blaise.  
  
He also knew that sooner or later, someone who cared for him would break through his shields, like Pansy and Blaise had done. Not totally, but enough to get him to live properly again, and in time return to normal - as normal as Scarboy could get, anyway. So he'd leave them alone, and hope it happened soon. Because Potter, the epitome of all that was good to many people, couldn't be allowed to fall apart.  
  
They sat in silence, Draco eating, Harry lost in thought. "Class starts in twenty minutes. You think it's worked yet?" Harry said finally.  
  
"No way to know till we go back in," Draco shrugged. He was licking his fingers clean of crumbs when a majestic black eagle swooped down and perched delicately on the basket handle and stuck out a leg to Draco.  
  
Harry looked at the Slytherin, who was paler than before. His face was carefully blank as he took the letter tied to the eagle's leg. The eagle immediately flew off, broad wings surfing the air currents.  
  
"From your parents?" Harry asked curiously.  
  
"My father." He didn't elaborate, staring at the rolled-up cream parchment, sealed with wax and what Harry presumed was the official Malfoy seal - the letter M in flowing script on a shield, with crossed swords behind the shield and a snake around the shield's border, with its head right above the 'M', forked tongue protruding. The effect on blood-red wax was creepy. Harry noticed the pale hand holding the parchment was trembling slightly.  
  
Draco abruptly stood. "See you, Potter," he said coldly, and without another word strode off towards the direction of the castle. Harry stared, then realised the basket was still beside him. He should have known Malfoy wouldn't help him bring the basket back to the kitchens, though *he* was the one to finish it all. Such a task was probably beneath the great Draco Malfoy.  
  
With a groan, Harry stood. He was curious about what the letter was about, and why Malfoy seemed so... scared? Was that the word? He didn't seem scared, exactly, but how else could he describe the way he seemed to withdraw, to close off so suddenly?  
  
It wasn't his problem. This was most probably one of the off- limit topics they had agreed not to talk about. He didn't care about Malfoy, anyway.  
  
+++++  
  
Draco,  
  
I have just been informed of your current situation. Have I not told you to keep a low profile? It will not do well for our Lord's plans if Dumbledore has his eye on you.  
  
A meeting is clearly in order. Though we have just had one a few days ago, you obviously need to be reminded of your place. Meet me at midnight in the usual way. Do not keep me waiting. You know what will happen if you do.  
  
Lucius Malfoy  
  
+++++  
  
Well, damn.  
  
He should have known Lucius would overreact. This was bad - it was too soon since the last time. But he had no choice but to go. If he didn't - no, he couldn't even think about it. But he knew Lucius would do it.  
  
Draco threw the letter into the common room fire, and watched as it burnt to ashes. If he hadn't done that, the letter would have burnt itself anyway. Lucius was paranoid about that sort of thing.  
  
He was alone in the drafty dungeons, since everyone else was at breakfast. Breakfast. Even the thought of his and Potter's prank couldn't cheer him up now. He wasn't fond of pain, no matter what Blaise and Pansy might think; he wasn't immune to it either. And if he met with his *father* - Draco's lips curled in a derisive sneer at the word - there was bound to be pain. And -  
  
Oh, no, no, no. If he went, he would miss his nightly meeting with the flutist. It had been, what? Only two nights? Yet it had become habit already. And this night was all the more important, since he promised. Damn Lucius. Damn Voldemort. Damn whatever plans they had for him. Damn Lucius' need to be in control of *something*, since that damned Voldemort was in control of *him*.  
  
Draco sighed and stood. It was time to go for class. And a bit of fun laughing at everyone else. Taking a deep breath, Draco banished the letter from his mind. He would see this day through like nothing had happened. He would enjoy his revenge on the school for their cowardly ineptitude. He would lord it over his Slytherins even without speaking a word. He wouldn't mention this to anyone, not even Pansy or Blaise, though they were bound to find out when he came back from his little trip.  
  
And he would continue his fragile truce with Potter. Draco allowed himself a smile at the thought of what his father would do if he found out that his son was actually consorting with Harry Potter. That, more than anything, gave him reason to make friends with Potter. It was a secret Lucius didn't know, and if he did find out somehow, it was something that he would try to stop. And what Lucius Malfoy didn't like, Draco Malfoy tried his best to.  
  
+++++  
  
Snape blinked. And blinked again.  
  
He could have sworn...  
  
"Did you say something?" he sneered at McGonagall, who was sitting on his right.  
  
This couldn't be right. Minerva was looking at him *funny*. He didn't think she had it in her to look anything other than imposing. But then again, it had been her voice saying *those* things...  
  
"No, I didn't and stop looking at me like that!" McGonagall snapped, looking a little uneasy. Uneasy? Minerva McGonagall?  
  
He looked back towards his breakfast. It was in his head, then. But how? Did he develop psychic powers overnight? Impossible.  
  
Snape froze as a new voice whispered through his mind, and his head whipped up to stare at Lupin (who was on his left) so fast that his hair hit his face.  
  
"What?" Remus tried to glare back, but failed. He looked apprehensively at the greasy-haired potions master on his right. It had to be his imagination. Snape was acting funny, and his *voice* was in Remus's head though he wasn't saying a word... was this another side effect of being a werewolf? Mind reading? No, that was absurd...  
  
Snape shook his head and turned back to his food. Good lord, what if it was his subconscious speaking? No way, he didn't think about Lupin like *that*! It was too horrible to imagine. And not Minerva either - he shuddered at the thought. The only explanation he could come up with at the moment was - he was going mad. He had finally cracked under the strain of teaching idiotic students like Potter.  
  
With an almost invisible smile and a barely audible sigh of relief, Snape decided that he was crazy, and a good thing too.  
  
+++++  
  
Dumbledore frowned slightly at his food, then smiled. So this was why. Ingenious, really. He looked around the hall, noting the rather muted talk amongst the students. They were fidgeting in their seats, staring suspiciously at the people next to them and frowning. There was unease and in some cases, even horror on their faces. Some of those faces were green.  
  
He had to admit, it *was* disturbing. But, after all, there was no harm in it. In fact, it was fun, admittedly only from the views of those who could see through the... trick? Joke? Either way, he was sure this wouldn't be the end of it. There would be at least one more prank that day. In fact, he found it incredible that they had managed to come up with something so ingenious given the short time he had stuck them together. His plan was working very well, indeed.  
  
It was going to be an interesting day.  
  
+++++  
  
Five minutes later, Ginny Weasley jumped up, face red. "That's it!" she yelled at the two fifth year boys beside her, who looked up startled. "How could you sit here and eat so calmly when you - you - perverts! Disgusting - idiotic - PERVERTS!" She slapped them both and then stormed out of the hall, leaving people gaping after her.  
  
Ginny's outburst was the signal for utter chaos. Everyone jumped up and started screaming at each other, red in the face - from anger or embarrassment, nobody could tell. Soon, the hall was empty since everyone had flounced out, save a few lingering students, mostly Ravenclaws, discussing the amazing new phenomenon that caused people to hear suggestive, graphic, lurid whispers in their minds. They weren't making much headway, though, as they glanced at each other shiftily and avoided each other's eyes.  
  
Snape stared. They all heard voices in their head, did they? Well then, since he wasn't mad, and it wasn't some new ability - it was a prank! He could have kicked himself for not realizing sooner. But still... what kind of spell or potion could do this? Not any he could think of, certainly.  
  
He turned to McGonagall. "Do you know any potion or spell or anything that has this sort of effect?" he asked coolly.  
  
"No, no such potion or spell," McGonagall sniffed. "Disgraceful conduct, whoever did this." She was still a little red in the face.  
  
"A mix of spells and potions. A Pheromone Potion. For the - the contents." Remus's quiet voice caused the teachers to look at him. "Maybe with a Delusion Potion for the voices, and perhaps an Identification Potion for the - the specific voices belonging to those right next to the victim."  
  
"Yes, but Pheromone Potions act the other way round; they cause the victim to think... thoughts... and the Delusion Potion causes not only auditory but visual delusions as well, and the Identification Potion works on a larger scale, not limited only to the adjacent people, and does not have anything to do with disembodied voices," frowned McGonagall.  
  
"Unless the maker comes up with different versions of the spell or the potion, altering them to fit their needs. The potions are all simple ones that can be prepared and made quickly, with basic ingredients, and so they are easier to alter, at least for a skilled potion maker. They can be altered and combined using some tricky spell casting, to make sure they don't mix wrongly and have the wrong result."  
  
The teachers turned to Dumbledore, who wore a bemused smile on his face after his little speech.  
  
"Do you know something about this?" asked Vector, the Arithmancy professor.  
  
"Yes, I do. It's obvious who did it if you think about it, but I'm sure we will find no evidence whatsoever pointing to them. They will have been very careful to not leave any clues behind; it is their nature, or perhaps their habit." With that little hint, Dumbledore smiled enigmatically at them all and departed.  
  
The teachers frowned. That was hardly any help - they knew a lot of good students who were meticulous about their work. In fact, that 'narrowed' the list to about all the Ravenclaws, a handful of Hufflepuffs, and more than half the Slytherins and Gryffindors. And it couldn't be Potter and Malfoy; they hated each other's guts. They dismissed the thought from their minds - there was nothing a little scare during class wouldn't fix. The students behind this would own up, and that was it.  
  
+++++  
  
Care of Magical Creatures was uneventful, as the class was learning about Bowtruckles, small wooden creatures, not very dangerous. Harry and Draco had a hard time keeping a straight face, seeing all the looks being shot amongst the other students. The girls were especially affected; they kept glancing fearfully at the others around them, tugging their robes closer, while the boys muttered to themselves and glared distrustfully around and made sure their robes were loose and baggy. Outbursts occurred less and less frequently as the spell, intended to last only forty-five minutes, faded. However, most people had red faces - quite a few due to slaps delivered in embarrassed disgust.  
  
Harry noted that Draco looked a bit more uptight than usual, and wasn't enjoying the results of their prank as much as he should be - heck, even Hagrid was looking shiftily at the students around him, and he knew Malfoy didn't like Hagrid. *Must have been that letter, wonder what it says?* Harry mused. But he put it out of his mind - he didn't need to care about Malfoy, after all.  
  
Charms with the Hufflepuffs was next for Gryffindor, and Herbology with the Ravenclaws for the Slytherins. Flitwick tried to find out who the prankster was, but the class kept silent, even when Filtwick praised the spell casting skill of whoever it was. Over in Herbology, Draco kept silent, too, when Sprout asked around. They had no intention of getting caught - and after all, it wasn't over.  
  
Lunch saw Draco eating food (taken directly from the kitchens) in his room, Harry eating one single chocolate frog by the lakeside, and the rest of the Hogwarts students fleeing out of the hall, not all making it in time to the bathroom to throw up, though the bathrooms were all overcrowded anyway.  
  
Dumbledore looked idly around at the empty hall, save for Crabbe and Goyle who were still wolfing down the food and helping themselves to extra helpings. Even the teachers were gone. He looked thoughtfully down at his food, and considered giving the two masterminds advanced courses in what looked like almost all of their subjects. To come up with these pranks and execute them smoothly took a whole lot of creativity and skill, both of which would come in handy during the war that would inevitably reach Hogwarts.  
  
The wise wizard's face darkened slightly at the thought. Even Hogwarts' hallowed halls would not be enough if - no, when - Tom Riddle gathered his forces and turned them on the castle. That boy was smart, extremely so; even now he was learning from his previous mistakes. Even if the walls were impenetrable, it all depended on the loyalty of the people in it. Cases like Peter Pettigrew would seriously weaken the trust that bonded people together.  
  
Dumbledore closed his eyes in pain at the memory of the betrayer. He had lost three - no, four - of his best students, most trusted advisors, and closest friends to the rat. He had lost a faithful and unbelievably strong force in his army when the man was imprisoned for a tragic crime he did not commit. He had lost a natural leader and born commander on the battlefield, one of the bravest men he had known. He had lost a sweet, kind woman with a calming presence and a remarkable healing talent that had saved many lives. He had lost one of the most brilliant minds and tactical planners the Light side ever had when the last true Marauder had retreated in his grief. Yes, Peter Pettigrew had a lot to answer for.  
  
But now... although one was still a wanted criminal, two of them were together. And hopefully, they could rebuild a new life from the scattered ashes of their past, and in the end take flight, reborn like the phoenix, the symbol of loyalty and love. They deserved it; after all they had been through...  
  
But he was digressing. What was he - oh, right. Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy. No, they did not need advanced classes at the moment - or rather, would not take kindly to having their abilities exposed even more by having advanced classes. More time together would suffice to bring about more peace in the school. More work would be better, though, to keep their minds off such mischief... at this rate, nobody would dare to eat any more Hogwarts food.  
  
Sighing, Dumbledore picked up his fork and knife and neatly cut off a piece of black spider that lay on his plate. Putting one of its legs into his mouth, he calmly chewed. It still tasted the same - delicious lemon meringue pie. He drank some blood - pumpkin juice, actually - to wash it down, before starting on what appeared to be an oozing mass of brain, but was actually some sort of jam tart, judging by its taste. He cast an indecisive eye over the table - should he try those still-fleshy bones that *could* be chicken, or should he sample the huge cockroaches that he was quite sure used to be chocolate rolls, or maybe he should taste those assorted body parts that were in the plate that used to contain pastries?  
  
Decisions, decisions...  
  
Oh well. At least they were thoughtful enough to leave the taste as it was.  
  
+++++  
  
"And then he asked me if I could please pass the slugs, and I said sure - "  
  
"She froze stiff and screamed and dropped the plate - "  
  
"One moment I was cutting up my pie, the next I was dissecting a *frog* and I just lost it - "  
  
"He spit it onto his plate and I swear I saw an eyeball in it and what seemed to be a mangled leg and some bloody intestines - "  
  
"Bleargh!"  
  
"Is he still throwing up? I didn't think he had enough in his stomach to throw up, we didn't eat much today!"  
  
The Gryffindor common room was still in an uproar, people gathering together to share their lunch experiences with anyone healthy enough to listen. Neville, and a few younger students, were still stuck in the bathroom, too nauseated to function properly.  
  
Hermione looked at her watch and sighed. Standing up, she announced in a clear voice, "All students please note you have five more minutes to complain to each other before class starts."  
  
Some students got up and went to get their books; others glanced up briefly before starting to bemoan the loss of their breakfast and lunch, and some groaned at the thought of classes, protesting "We're too hungry and sick to do anything!"  
  
"If you want to fail your N.E.W.T.s this year, then that's not my problem," Hermione retorted, and sat down again in a huff. She glanced around her - Seamus was busy complaining to an equally disgusted Ron, and Lavender and Parvati were talking poor Ginny's ear off.  
  
Seamus chose that moment to turn to Hermione, as he asked her with a slight grin, "What can you say for your precious house elves now? They - "  
  
Hermione interrupted him. "Seamus! It's clearly not the elves' fault, it's just a horrid practical joke! How could you even - do you actually think - " she sputtered indignantly, at a loss for words for once.  
  
"Calm down! I was just saying, they didn't take good enough care of the kitchen, and allowed someone to sneak in and do whatever they did to the food." Seamus rolled his eyes at Hermione, adding "Honestly!" in a tone so reminiscent of Hermione that those listening laughed weakly.  
  
"Right," Ron groaned as he heaved himself out of his seat. "Let's get our books for our next lesson. Arithmancy for you, Hermione, right? And Divination for us - that reminds me, gotta go collect Neville, see if he's done yet."  
  
Five minutes later, just as the bell rang, Ron, Seamus and Neville hurried into the warm Divination classroom, slightly winded. Ron immediately sought out Harry and sat next to him, while Seamus and Neville took the empty table next to them.  
  
"Hey, Harry, where did you go during lunch? You missed - "  
  
"I know."  
  
Ron blinked. "What?"  
  
Harry said coolly, "The girls have already tried to tell me about what happened. I got the gist of it."  
  
"Oh. Um, ok, so... yeah. Anyway, you should have been there!" Ron tried to inject some excitement into his voice.  
  
"So that I can barf whatever's in my stomach up?"  
  
"No! That's not what I meant, I was just saying - "  
  
"Mr. Weasley, if you'd kindly wrap up your conversation with Mr. Potter so we can start the lesson?" an airy voice cut in.  
  
Ron immediately turned to face Professor Trelawney, who was glaring at him in disapproval. "Sorry, Professor," he muttered, flushing slightly.  
  
Professor Trelawney sniffed. "My Inner Eye told me of the disastrous happenings during today's breakfast and lunch, and so I avoided going down, in case I was similarly afflicted. My dears, I am so sorry you had to go through that, but it is a trial that will make you all the more appreciate the food you normally eat. It is a blessing in disguise..."  
  
Harry tuned out. He was a little disappointed that Professor Trelawney hadn't been affected, but hey, nothing ever went exactly to plan...  
  
Divination was as boring as usual, with a few predictions of Harry's death scattered here and there and some hints of a terrible tragedy. *Which is most likely true, since Voldemort is back,* Harry thought dryly. With so many attacks being reported almost daily in the newspapers, it was only a matter of time before something big happened.  
  
The bell rang, homework was given, and they were let off to go to their next class, Herbology. Professor Sprout was slightly peeved, and kept asking if they had any idea who did it. When all she received were blank stares, she huffed and led the class to Greenhouse Three, housing the more dangerous plants, and let them 'familiarize' themselves with the flora in there - without any clear instructions on which to avoid and which not to.  
  
"She's getting her revenge on us, I'm telling you, and it's unfair that we have to suffer when it's not our fault!" Ron whispered heatedly, trying to keep his voice down as he struggled to free himself from a plant that seemed intent on ripping his hand off.  
  
"Now, Ron, I think this is very useful. It tests us on our ability to recognize and avoid dangerous plants, it's a great hands-on exercise...." Hermione trailed off as she gracefully ducked under some vines that were waving about like tentacles, transparent thorns barely visible on them.  
  
"More like hands OFF!" yelped Ron as the plant suddenly let go of him and causing him to sit down hard on the dusty, soiled ground. "Ow!"  
  
"Ron! Be careful! You could upset one of the plants!" Hermione scolded him as he got to his feet, scowling.  
  
"Upset the plants? You're worried about the plants?!" Ron hissed indignantly.  
  
"Yes, since it's your own fault for not reading up on them," Hermione replied distractedly as she tried to get a closer look at a plant that seemed to be trying to bite her nose off. Ron muttered something unintelligible as he kept well out of reach of any and all plants.  
  
Harry sighed, bored, and wished for the day to be over so he could have his nightly rendezvous with the pianist.  
  
+++++  
  
Eleven forty-five.  
  
Draco checked himself once more in the mirror. Hair perfectly gelled back, clothes impeccably neat. All his clothes were made of the lightest material, which barely caressed his skin, so that it wouldn't hurt *that* much when it brushed against scraped skin and raw wounds. He carried nothing of importance to him, not even his wand - Lucius didn't want him to have anything that would help in defending himself, and he also didn't want anything he valued to be broken when Lucius beat him up.  
  
Finally, when he was sure he looked his best, Draco prepared to leave. A few layers of spells - the outermost a concealing spell that hid itself and the spells worked inside it from notice - protected his room. Also, there was a hidden Dark spell that was powerful enough to cancel out all other previously set magic, so that none of the Hogwarts spells worked inside it.  
  
Which meant that Draco could Apparate and practise his Dark magic spell-casting safely, for which he was grateful. He didn't want to think of what would happen if Dumbledore found out what had been going on in his room, the interfering twat.  
  
Draco sighed and once again considered forgetting about his father's orders. But no - not going would imply he was afraid of his father, and enrage him even more, and his punishment would be even more severe the next time he saw the older Malfoy. Draco didn't really want to be whipped and starved for a week.  
  
So he Apparated to the communication chamber in his house, the room where visitors who used the Floo network, or Apparated in, arrived at. It was bare, save for a fireplace and a lush red carpet underfoot. Draco opened the ornate wooden door and strode into the entrance hallway. A house- elf immediately appeared and squeaked, "Master Draco, Master Lucius is in his study room and he is wanting Master Draco to go see him now."  
  
"Yes, thank you," Draco muttered distractedly as he made his way toward the study room, concealing his fear. He wouldn't give that bastard the satisfaction of seeing him afraid, just as he defied every possible one of his orders, amongst which was to treat the house-elves 'like the slaves they are'. Idly he wondered what Granger would have to say about that.  
  
He knocked smartly on his father's study's tall wooden doors and waited, straightening his robes. Moments later, the door opened by itself, and he smoothly glided in, giving off an air of detached inquiry. "You wanted to see me, father?"  
  
Lucius Malfoy sat behind his grand oak desk, straight-backed and imposing. His silver hair was exactly like Draco's, only un-gelled and much longer, and tied at the nape of his neck. His features were stern and unyielding, strong and chiselled. Hard stormy grey eyes with a shot of blue coldly denounced everyone they stared at, including his headstrong son.  
  
"Draco. What excuses have you for this incident with Potter?"  
  
"Only that I am human, like you are, and can feel anger when provoked," replied Draco calmly, fixing his unwavering stare onto his father's.  
  
"As you are provoking me now, I suppose?" Lucius' voice was neutral.  
  
"I suppose so, don't you?"  
  
"Don't get cheeky with me!" Lucius snapped, standing in one fluid motion, though Draco didn't react. "You are a Malfoy, and we do not show such unbecoming barbaric behaviour, such as getting into fights in public!"  
  
"But torturing your own son in private is fine?" hissed the boy, eyes darkening.  
  
"When he needs to be taught his place, I shall do it," Lucius said coldly.  
  
"And *you* of all people are fit to decide if I need to be taught? You're the one who's grovelling at Voldemort's feet! Is *that* becoming of a Malfoy?" Draco retorted, anger heating his pale cheeks. This was tantamount to suicide, but he had missed a meeting with the flutist only to face one of the people he hated most, and now he was too furious, too disgusted, too far gone to care. After all, he definitely was going to be beaten up no matter what, why not beaten up thoroughly?  
  
"You will be the one grovelling at my feet when I'm done with you!" snarled Lucius.  
  
"Oh really? How about all the other times you've said that? Have I ever done so? There is no way I'll submit to you or that pathetic excuse for a wizard that was almost destroyed by a baby!" The young Malfoy was screaming at his father now, fists clenched, eyes blazing.  
  
"We are better, stronger than you will ever be if you continue the way you are! You are weak, useless, but in the Dark Lord's hands you will become as powerful as I am, you stupid child!"  
  
"Which is not powerful at all, can't you see? You're blinded by your lust for power, but you will fall in the end like that egoistical master of yours! You're just a dog licking his boots, like all the Death Eater are! A Malfoy reduced to this state - gods, *that's* what I call shaming our name!"  
  
Lucius whipped out his wand and pointed it at Draco, who stood tall, defiant. "You will submit," he hissed, "and I will teach you how. Crucio!"  
  
+++++  
  
Draco Apparated back into his room, collapsing on the ground in agony. It hurt, oh god it hurt, so much that he felt numb; he almost couldn't breathe, it was a wonder he hadn't splinched himself, he couldn't even think straight and he hazily wondered how he had actually been able to concentrate enough to Apparate and why the world was red and blurred and why there was a high-pitched wailing in the background...  
  
Suddenly the pain was gone, though he couldn't move when he tried - his entire body felt numb. Something soft gently swiped across his eyes, and after a few blinks he found he could see again, to his relief. He hated the feeling of being blind.  
  
Blaise was peering at him worriedly, but he saw Draco's eyes focus on his face and was relieved. Straightening from his kneeling position, bent over Draco, he held up a bloodstained piece of cloth. "There was blood covering your eyes," he explained with a strained smile. "And the rest of you, too."  
  
Draco tried to talk, ended up coughing, licked his lips and tried again. "Thanks," he croaked. "I suppose you numbed me?"  
  
"Actually, Pansy did." Blaise gestured to the blond girl, who was currently giving Draco a critical once-over. She shook her head in resignation when Draco caught her eyes.  
  
"Much worse than before, I suppose you were feeling extra cheeky today?" she scolded him. "But at least as usual, he purposely missed all the... important parts. Your head, heart and... you know."  
  
"I'm grateful," Draco replied sarcastically. Seeing Pansy looking hurt and opening her mouth, he added, "But thanks."  
  
"I'm okay to knock you out with Stupefy, okay? Then we'll heal you. It's going to take a while, and I'm not sure if we'll be able to heal everything in the end. We'll Ennervate you tomorrow early morning so you can wash," Blaise informed Draco.  
  
"Do as you like. And... thanks."  
  
The last thing Draco saw was a beam of red light lancing toward him, and then blessed darkness.  
  
+++++  
  
To be continued...  
  
+++++  
  
whew. Done. Long chap, as usual, but I've given up on being more concise by now. It's in my nature to be boring and long-winded...  
  
oh yes, FINALLY some *friendly*, not just neutral or partners-in-crime Harry/Draco in the next chap! Please be patient, I usually take quite some time to get the pairing together; I like to see the relationship developing. So please keep reading! And review! And get friends to review!  
  
Oh, yes, Sadame is a real full ochestra instrumental piece, from the anime X/1999. If you haven't heard it, go download; if you can't, IM me. My AIM name is Kalymne, and [Darke Angel] on MSN. I'll send the file to you. Sadame's too good to miss, my friends fell in love with it at first hearing!  
  
And I won't be updating for quite a while... maybe a year? *sheepish grin* sorry, but I need to concentrate on my school work for a while... unless, of course, I get lots and lots and lots of reviews, and maybe I'll find some time to finish the next chap; it's halfway done. Maybe. Sorry, everyone!  
  
::: Darke Angel ::: Watching over the silver dawn ::: 


	9. Secrets and Beginnings

**Summary:** [HP/DM] Set in 5th year & beyond, continuing from the 4th book. Harry & Draco are suffering from reality & withdraw from the Light into the Dark. As the world readies for war, Harry finds out startling secrets about his past, prophecies involving him & Draco. He pushes away the people he loves, hurting both himself and them. And Draco's torn between the Light and the Dark, with pressing reasons on each side to consider. They find each other through the music they find solace in, away from prying eyes, while War begins its deadly march. And the world meets someone it never imagined still existed.

**Disclaimer:** me no own Harry Potter or anything else the J.K. Rowling has created. Though I wish I own Draco Malfoy. And Sirius Black. And Remus Lupin. And a Firebolt. And those thingies that pull the Hogwarts carriages.

**Pairings:** HP/DM, SB/RL, RW/HG and others

* * *

**Chapter Eight**

* * *

"Need help?" Blaise asked for what seemed like the thousandth time.

Draco glared at both him and Pansy. "As I've already said, no! I'm not invalid, so stop hovering around me like two overprotective mothers!"

"Hey!" Blaise protested indignantly.

"You look invalid," was Pansy's only reply. "And I'm sure you feel like it too."

"How would you know how I'm – "

"Four broken ribs, punctured lungs, a few crushed fingers, large gashes bleeding profusely, welts obviously caused by a whip on your back, broken arms, a twisted ankle and bruises _all over_ your body that we can't heal because we're too exhausted after working on the rest of your injuries! That's enough to kill a person let alone render him invalid!" Pansy hissed, glaring at Draco, who looked mutinously back at her.

Finally Draco muttered, "Okay, so maybe it does hurt a little."

"A little? Draco, you can't even stand. Admit it, you need our help," Blaise cut in, amused.

The three were currently standing by Draco's bed, having Ennervated him a few moments before – it was seven in the morning, which gave him more than an hour to wash up, or just to soak in the tub. That is, if he managed to get to the bathroom in one piece. Currently, he was trying to push himself up from the bed, but his body was screaming in agony.

"Draco..."

"Okay, fine!"

Pansy grinned widely and dashed to his cupboard to pick out his clothes for him, calling over her shoulder to Blaise, "Lift him up, will you?"

Blaise rolled his eyes at her back and then turned to Draco, who was now glaring at him. "Keep in mind that I do not need any help, and it's just that I can't stand her whining – "

"Yes, Your Majesty, I understand, Your Majesty, now shut up and let me do my job before she kills us both."

With Blaise's arm supporting him, Draco managed the short distance to his private adjoining bathroom (special privileges were dead useful at times). Blaise gently sat him down on the (covered) toilet seat, and then he and Pansy, who had brought his clothes in, turned to leave.

Pansy paused at the doorway and looked back at Draco. "We'll be back at eight fifteen, okay? That gives us forty-five minutes to walk down to the hall and eat and walk to class, so you don't stress yourself. It's a good thing that it's Friday, and Charms is first, since the classroom is on the same floor as the Hall – "

"Pansy!"

"Yes, yes, just a minute, Blaise. And you'd better give us a full account on what you said and why you were especially rude to him because usually it isn't so bad, so I want to know why you lost your mind – !"

The last words had to be shouted as Blaise dragged her away, pulling the door shut behind them.

Draco sighed at Pansy's mother-hen personality, before he started the painful process of removing his clothes. His muscles screamed as he tried to pull his shirt off, and he almost cried out in pain, but bit it in savagely, and managed to finally rid himself of the red-dyed shirt. He sighed as he stared morosely down at his equally bloodstained slacks. Oh well, at least they had removed his robe from him while he was unconscious.

Who was he kidding? He'd be glad if he were still conscious in five minutes. It'd be a miracle if he were both conscious and unclothed, too. He should have kept his mouth shut, but he had been so frustrated by missing his nightly 'appointment'... and look what that had earned him. How the hell would he get through this day?

* * *

"You got an A for a paper."

"I am appalled at the very thought."

"A D?"

There was a sort of strangled sound.

"A P then."

"..."

"How about an E? Though personally I don't think that's bad at all..."

"Pansy, think about it – do you honestly think Draco would get anything other than an O?" Blaise intervened in their conversation before Draco could have an epileptic fit.

"But if it's not his grades, then... I know! Yesterday's food!"

Draco suppressed a snicker as Blaise patiently explained to her that Draco hadn't shown any signs of having been affected by whatever had been done to the food since he hadn't (1) slapped anyone, (2) puked, (3) complained/whined the day through, or (4) poked his dinner carefully and stared at it suspiciously for twenty minutes before venturing a bite. In fact, if she hadn't noticed, he was the _first_ to start eating (earning a round of applause), besides Dumbledore of course.

Pansy threw her hands up, grumbling, "Then what?" She glared at Draco, who was sitting in front of the mirror, painstakingly gelling his hair back, and ignoring the two people behind him. Blaise was, as usual, lying on the bed, after he had cleaned it up with a Scouring charm, of course. Pansy was pacing through the room, throwing dark glances at the lounging Blaise and the seemingly oblivious Draco.

"Then nothing," was Draco's bored reply. "I was just in a particularly grumpy mood, okay?"

"But _why_ were you in a particularly grumpy mood?" persisted Pansy, stopping right behind Draco to glare at him in the mirror.

"None of your business."

"But – "

"And if that isn't clear enough, shut up."

"Draco..." Blaise's voice was soft in warning.

"Please."

Pansy gave Blaise an ugh-why-don't-_you_-talk-to-him glance and he raised his eyebrows in a sorry-I'd-rather-watch-you-get-trampled look as Draco picked up his wand and muttered a pain-reducing spell. So long as his skin didn't come into contact with anything except for the unavoidable light brushes as people hurried past each other, the pain would fade into a dull, tolerable throb. If he was hit... depending on the strength of it, the pain he had originally felt the previous night might come back stronger than ever. That was the risk.

As Draco stood and shrugged on his school robe carefully, Pansy tried one last time. "Draco, please just tell us what's making you so grumpy – "

"Let's go," he cut in, and without waiting for a response pulled open his door and strode out.

"Nice move," commented Blaise as he moved towards the door. He cast a glance back at Pansy, who was staring at him balefully. "Come on, we'll leave questioning him till later. Now we've got to pretend everything's fine, and keep people away from him."

"I wish he didn't run off every time I try to confront him," Pansy muttered as she followed Blaise. "I'm sick of having to simper over him when we're in public when all I want to do is drag Draco somewhere private and force it out of him."

"Kinky, Parkinson. Nice mental image. Being sarcastic here, of course..."

It took a moment for Pansy to understand.

"Blaise! Get your perverted mind of the gutter!"

"Actually, currently it's in bed..."

"Blaise!"

* * *

They met Vince and Greg in the Slytherin common room. The two hulking boys were slouching around in the corner, but when they saw the trio they straightened and lumbered over.

"Hey, Draco, Pansy, Blaise. Morning."

Draco nodded curtly and breezed past them. Vince turned to Greg, who turned to Pansy, who turned to Blaise, who shrugged and said, "PMS."

"Ah." The two nodded sagely while Pansy gave Blaise a funny look.

"I heard that!" Draco called back. "Are you coming? Breakfast will be over soon."

Vince and Greg immediately hurried over to the Slytherin entrance, Pansy and Blaise following more sedately.

When they arrived in the Great Hall, it was more hushed than usual. The cause of the whispers was clearly the bunch of scared-looking people huddled in front of the teacher's table.

Draco didn't even spare a glance at the others in the Great Hall as he strode to the Slytherin table. However, once seated at his usual position – the one in the middle of the table and facing the rest of the hall, the 'leader's seat' – with Vince and Greg to one side of him and Pansy and Blaise directly opposite, he allowed himself to examine the newcomers. There were... seven new teens. Four boys, three girls.

The Dream Team came in at that moment, looking back constantly at a scowling Boy-Who-Lived who really _did_ look like the Boy-Who-Lived-Note-The-Past-Tense.

Once they were seated, Dumbledore rose. McGonagall tapped her glass for order, and the whispers died down, expectant faces turning to the Headmaster.

Dumbledore looked gravely at the students. "Now that all of you have arrived, I am afraid I have to be the harbinger of bad news. Voldemort has attacked again. The post owls have dropped the papers with us, and we will give them to you later. For now, let us welcome the students of Old School Academy, one of the finest schools of magic in Ireland. Or should I say, used to be, as Voldemort has destroyed it."

Gasps were heard throughout the hall, though most people had an I-knew-that-was-coming look on their faces.

Dumbledore nodded sadly. "The entire school is gone, but luckily its late Headmaster managed to get half the students out before it collapsed. Some of those students were re-directed to our school. They have lost much, and I hope you will help them settle into Hogwarts life. They have already been Sorted, and will get their robes later." He turned to smile kindly at the group of teens. "Also, they are exempted from classes today, and instead will be going on a tour around the castle, and then to their dormitories to unpack their belongings."

When he received a few feeble nods in reply, he looked down at a piece of parchment in his hand. "Now, let's see... Laura Feehilly?" A tall thin girl with a calm face marred only by worry lines stepped forward. "Ah, yes, you're in... Ravenclaw!" The Ravenclaw table clapped and cheered loudly as she attempted a smile and walked over to them. Draco mused that Dumbledore wasn't very good at imitations, since he did a very poor one of the Sorting Hat, though it was clear he was trying.

"Forello Tempe and Cassie Jackson." A tanned boy, small but compact, and a dark-skinned African girl hesitatingly moved to the front of the small crowd, shoulder to shoulder. It was obvious they were good friends from the way they stuck close together. The tension in their bodies lessened as the Hufflepuff table gave them a roaring welcome when Dumbledore announced, "Hufflepuff!"

"Daniel Hertogh and Brian Egan, you're in... Gryffindor!" Very blue eyes peered out from a pale-skinned face as a lanky boy made his way to the Gryffindor table, followed by his shorter but more solid schoolmate. Draco sneered at the way their eyes kept straying to the Golden Boy, who gave them a weak smile.

_Potter really looks like shit. I wonder if they feel let down?_ Draco looked at the two boys again and snorted to himself, seeing avid excitement replacing nervous fear. _No, the Golden Boy can't be anything but perfect in their eyes._

"And finally, last but definitely not least, Kent and Danica Raughte are in Slytherin!" Dumbledore's voice interrupted Draco's train of thought. He looked up to assess his two newest charges – twins, from the looks of it. Both had neatly combed short black hair and were of average height, slightly shorter than he was; the boy attractively lean while the girl just looked fragile.

They sat down next to Blaise, where Larry Rhimes had moved to make space. Dark brown eyes looked at their new surroundings, guarded wariness in them. Draco knew his house was waiting for him to make the first move, to give his approval. He smirked inwardly and stood, offering his hand to the boy first, who hurriedly stood as well and took Draco's hand, returning the firm handshake.

"Draco Malfoy, seventh year prefect. Glad to have you in Slytherin. You'll find that we're a very bonded house, though we have high expectations of each other." Something flickered in those dark eyes when he heard the name 'Malfoy'. Draco growled inwardly – why did everyone seem particularly affected by his family name? It wasn't as if they were all evil dark lords or something.

"Kent Raughte, sixth year, like my younger twin sister, Danica." The girl stood and offered her hand, which Draco shook politely. She had a weak grip, and didn't say anything, only quickly sat back down when Draco and her brother did. _A weak girl, it appears, but in Slytherin we can never judge anyone by their appearance – unless, of course, the hat put her in Slytherin simply because she's useless without her brother, _Draco thought scornfully.

Aloud he said, "Nice to meet you both. Now, I expect you're hungry, so let's eat." And with that, he began eating and ignored all around him, leaving his housemates to bombard the newcomers with questions and unwritten house rules.

* * *

They got through Charms without any mishaps, and soon it was time for Transfiguration. Making his way to their corner, Draco gingerly sat next to Harry, who was already there with all the other Gryffindors. Harry glared at him, and he glared right back. It was obvious to their friends that both were in an especially bad mood.

Professor McGonagall strode in and her eyes immediately locked on Harry and Draco. "Potter, Malfoy. Come here."

They went.

"Mr. Potter. You are one of the best in Transfiguration, and Mr. Malfoy is one of the better ones. I'm sure you know how to do most spells, so from now on you will help Mr. Malfoy in his Transfiguration spells, and work on Professor Lupin's project when you are done. I will give you the spell you're supposed to be practicing before each lesson, after which you are to go to the room assigned to you. Understand?"

_Not again!_ Draco groaned inwardly as he and that idiot Potter mumbled, "Yes, Professor McGonagall."

"Good. Now, you've finished the spell last lesson so you don't have to do it today, so off you go to do your research."

Glumly, the two gathered their books and made their way out of the classroom, sympathetic glances following them out, though they didn't notice it, too busy glaring at each other. Two of those sympathetic glances belonged to Pansy and Hermione, and as the door closed behind the boys, they turned to each other.

"Is it just me, or are they both in a horrible mood today?" Hermione asked Pansy.

The blonde nodded. "Yes, they are. Draco has a reason to be moody, which I can't reveal, though I don't know why Potter is... I mean, he's been improving, right?"

Hermione sighed. "Yes, whatever he's been doing, it's making him more relaxed... but this morning, when I saw him, he was back to being moody and withdrawn and depressed. I wonder why?"

Pansy made a face. "Those guys are so secretive... we have no choice but to let them do whatever they're doing and hope it turns out okay in the end, I guess."

That settled, the two got down to work.

* * *

"I swear, if that stupid giant makes us do more project work in this room, I will _scream_," Draco bit out savagely. "Pateso... bloody ignorant cowardly idiots!"

"Don't insult Hagrid!" Harry snapped as he pushed past Draco into the room, missing Draco's wince as he did so. He flung his bag onto the table and threw himself onto a couch.

"Stick up your ass much, Potter?" Draco sneered as he dropped his bag on the opposite side of the table from Harry's, and settled himself gracefully onto the other couch, careful to make his movements smooth to avoid jarring.

Harry sat up straight, glaring at Draco. "Don't try to piss me off, Malfoy, 'cause I'm not very inclined to keep our truce intact right now."

Draco raised an eyebrow as he leaned back, seemingly unruffled. "You're bothering about the truce? Truth to tell, I'm having a very hard time keeping _you_ intact right now."

Harry gritted his teeth. He had waited the entire night for the pianist to show up, and when he or she didn't, he had felt so betrayed, so alone. So he wasn't in the best of moods right now, to put it mildly. But he would try again tonight, and the next night, and the next... because something so precious couldn't be given away so easily.

Now, though, he felt pretty pissed off. And the smirking blond pig in front of him was the perfect outlet for his frustration – if only he could get the other to attack first. That way, he could say he was defending himself...

Draco wasn't very happy either, to say the least – he had been beaten to an inch of his life, _and_ he had missed a meeting with the flutist. What would the other think of him now? He only hoped he would be forgiven... but he had to come up with an excuse. And he hated lying to people he liked, or making excuses. Hell, if he was good at excuses, he wouldn't be hurting right now, would he? He could have made an excuse to his father... but noooo, his pride hadn't let him.

So he vented his frustration the only way he knew how – on Potter. Draco kept the smirk on his face as he drawled nonchalantly, "What's the matter? Cat got your tongue?"

Pure instinct made Harry shoot out of his seat and slam his fist into Draco's cheek.

Pain smashed into Draco's body – having been hit so hard, the pain-numbing spell had broken, and not only that but multiplied the pain, leaving his entire body in flames that burned even hotter than the night before. He curled up on the couch, trembling, choking, the pain making it hard even to breathe. Beads of sweat stood out on his forehead, and he felt like he was shattering into a thousand irreparable pieces, branded with a thousand burning sticks. _Oh god oh god breathe just breathe don't think about it inhale exhale oh god it hurts, it hurts, please..._

Harry panicked when Malfoy suddenly curled up. He hadn't even hit him that hard, and it was on the cheek and not on top of some important internal organ – oh, he got it now.

"Malfoy, very funny. Ha, ha, ha. You've had your fun, now stop it. Pretty lame, actually."

Malfoy didn't reply.

"Malfoy, I'm running out of patience. Get your ass off the couch."

A low whimper.

"Malfoy!"

It seemed the other boy couldn't even hear him. Harry hesitated, then reached forward and lightly rested his hand on Draco's shoulder. The blond flinched away, his entire frame wracked with a violent shiver.

Harry frowned worriedly. Maybe Malfoy wasn't pretending after all... great. At this rate, his resolution to ignore the Slytherin was going to be impossible to fulfil. He just didn't know what to expect next with Draco Malfoy. Sighing, Harry reached for his wand and muttered a full-body numbing spell.

Draco felt numbness spread all over his body, lifting the unbearable pain away. Blinking his eyes open, it took him a moment to blink away the blurry moisture and readjust them to the light. When they did, he saw that he was curled up with his back against the back of the couch, and Harry Potter stood in front of him, worry and guilt warring in his face.

"Malfoy... did you put a pain-numbing spell on yourself?" he asked quietly.

"Did you put a full-body numb on me just now?" Draco countered.

"Yes."

"Then yes." He owed the boy one straight answer, at least.

"Did it hurt that much? Before the spell? Since I got such a violent reaction when I, um, hit you." Harry averted his eyes as he spoke, knowing that this would be violating their rules – no poking into the other's business.

But to his surprise, Draco asked tiredly, "Have you ever been put under Crucio, Potter?"

Harry nodded.

"This is worse. You don't want to know how much worse, trust me."

"How is that possible?"

Draco stared at the Gryffindor in disbelief, who had lifted his head to look unwaveringly back at him.

"Look, you don't have to answer," Harry added as he mistook Malfoy's disbelief for indignation. "It's just, I've been under Crucio before. And, well, I don't see how anything can hurt more than that. But if it's possible, then I'm sorry. For hitting you, and breaking the spell. It must have hurt like hell."

"Ten hells, actually." Draco shook his head and sighed. "You're too naïve, Potter. Did you really think Crucio is the worst of it? What if someone used Crucio _and_ beat you up? What then? Or if they used Crucio non-stop? I take it that you only had it on you for a while. Take this spell off, Potter, and help me cast the other one. I hate not being able to move."

Harry did as he asked, and when Draco sat up gingerly, tugging at his robes, he asked hesitatingly, "Is that what happened to you?"

A moment's silence passed, before Draco stiffly nodded.

"Who?"

"Too many questions, Potter."

"Sorry. So... is that the worst of it?"

Draco sighed, shaking his head pityingly. "Naïveté will kill you in the real world, Potter. Of course not. There are many other horrors that will break you more than a simple Crucio ever can. For example, the Dark Mark. It's a dark magic of the foulest kind, invading your mind and soul and turning it black bit by bit. And the pain – Crucio is just a mockery of that. Did you know, Crucio was created based on the pain felt when having the Mark burned into you? It can never compare to the real thing, I assure you."

Harry muttered resentfully, "And I suppose _you_ would know best."

Draco froze, then turned furious eyes onto the Gryffindor. That. Was. IT. He stood, no matter how much it pained him, and hissed, "Do not 'suppose' anything about me, _Potter_. You don't know a _shit_ about me. I do not have the Mark and if I have my way I _never_ will succumb to that monster. This is what I get for answering your questions honestly? You haven't had to go through the hell that I have, so don't _suppose_ things. I only know all this because I have a mockery of a _father_ who's fallen into Voldemort's snake pit. And he's put me through hell because I won't do the same, so don't you _dare_ act all righteous with me because you don't know what real pain _is_!"

Harry looked at him with unreadable eyes as he fought to calm himself down, then said, "You called Voldemort by his name."

Draco stared, then collapsed back onto the couch, anger dissipating. "Bloody hell, Potter, after all I've said don't tell me this is the only thing that registered in your little mind."

"Well, no, I _did_ get the bit about Voldemort having a snake pit."

Draco's mouth twitched.

Harry looked innocent.

Then they both started laughing. Real laughter, the kind that was treasured in such dark times.

They calmed down somewhat after a while and Harry sat down again, facing Draco. He looked at the Slytherin seriously and said, "I apologise for my assumptions earlier. It was wrong, and now, I see it was also untrue. I just assumed that since your father is a certified Death Eater, you'd follow in his footsteps. After all, you always act so arrogant, so... so _Malfoy-ish_, I guess, for want of a better word, throwing your name and status about."

"That's because I _am_ a Malfoy, and proud of it."

Harry looked confused. "What – "

"Just because my ancestors for the past few generations were evil in a way, doesn't mean the Malfoy line is hopeless. We used to be a very well respected family, not associated with anything dark. All we did was legal, open to criticism, and beneficial to others. A few generations ago, though, someone turned to the Dark Arts, and it went downhill from there. Even our family mottos have been re-interpreted, twisted into a form that roughly illustrates the principal of 'exitus acta probat'."

"Which is?"

"Latin. It means 'the end justifies the means'."

"So... you're proud to be a Malfoy, but you hate them... how does that go again?"

"My father's a bastard, a shame to our name, like his father before him, and his father before that, and a few more fathers along the line. When he dies, I'll inherit everything, as I'm the only heir. I'll get my family back on track again. Whatever it takes, I'll restore the Malfoy name to what it was before. Not just a wealthy family at Voldemort's beck and call."

Harry looked uncomfortable. "But... the way you've been acting in school the first few years? It sort of enhances the image of the Malfoys as stuck-up snobs, and, well..."

Draco's mouth thinned. "That is a subject I would rather not talk about. Let's just say things have changed."

The memory of dust-coated light dancing on silver hair and dirtied robes stirred at the back of his memory. He had forced himself to forget that – he didn't need another burden to hold, another friend to hurt. It didn't mean anything, anyway. "Ok, fine, changing the subject now... how do you know so much about your family?"

"Research. I wanted to reassure myself that Malfoy weren't doomed to a lifetime of crime. You'd be amazed at how much information you can get from research, ever tried it? And speaking of research..."

"Our work awaits."

"Exactly."

Draco got up, stretching carefully, and padded over to the wall where the old tomes were. Harry immediately hurried over, holding out a hand to stop him from picking the heavy volumes, saying quickly, "It's okay, I've got it."

"Potter," Draco said exasperatedly, "I'm not that fragile. In fact, I can handle a dusty old book without any problems at all. If you're pitying me, I think I will be forced to punch you."

Harry picked up the topmost book and turned to grin at him. "I'm not pitying you, I'm feeling guilty. You just sit over there and I'll bring two books over, and we'll call it quits."

Draco raised an eyebrow. "Quits?"

"You know, me punch you, me feel guilty, me want to apologise, me do manual labour for you, me and you quits?"

"Ah. The Neanderthal way."

Draco didn't argue further, and retreated to the table, sitting down where his bag was. Harry came over, hefting two old tomes, and set them down, sliding one over to his partner. Taking the other for himself, Harry sat down opposite Draco, pushing his bag aside to make space for the book.

Draco was examining the front cover when Harry spoke. "Malfoy, I just wanted you to know... I still don't like you, but that's for all the things you did to us before. Actually right now I think you're a pretty tolerable person. Especially with that whole Voldemort-hating thing. That's a pretty redeeming point. And not to forget last year, fifth year, when you saved – " he abruptly stopped when he saw the warning look on Malfoy's face. "Um, nothing."

Draco considered him, then decided to forget it. "I'm a nasty old Slytherin, remember? How do you know I'm not lying about the Voldemort thing?"

Harry smiled. "I just do." How could he tell the other boy that he had seen the fire in those silver-gray eyes and the passion in his flowing movements, and believed? It sounded so cliché, not to mention sappy.

The blond frowned. "Just don't go saying that in public. Everything I've said here, just now? Don't let it leak out of here. I'll die if it gets out, and I mean that literally. And I'll make sure I take you with me."

"I got it, don't worry. Your secret's safe with me," Harry reassured his companion. "And, I know you most likely don't want to make a fuss, but if your father goes too far, you have to do something."

Draco shook his head. "Right now, I can handle it. I'm not that stupid, Potter, I know what to do. Now shut up and get to work."

"Aye aye, sir."

"And Potter?"

"Yeah?"

"Thanks."

He didn't say anything, but it didn't matter. His smile was reply enough.

* * *

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Hope this isn't too OOC? Any problems, or comments, or ways to improve – please tell me! Which means, basically, review, please! And thank you so much to those who reviewed previously.

Next chap: more friendship and music coming up!

::: Darke Angel ::: Exitus Acta Probat :::

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